TWC: Scraps from the Rag Bag
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: AUs, deleted scenes, and plot lines that were cut from the main continuity of the Wonderland Chronicles series.
1. Tales from Tulgey Wood

**Author's Note** : At various points throughout the writing, editing, and re-writing of Books Three and Four, I had planned for Jack to die various ways – in battle, by accident, by Regina's hand, by Dafydd's hand, among others. Before I developed the idea of Jack opening the door to Darkness, I had originally planned a subplot that involved the sentient Trees of the Tulgey Wood – where part of the Ruler's job was to shepherd the forest, and Jack failed to keep up his end of the bargain, angering the Trees and causing them to retaliate a la the Last March of the Ents. I had written his demise via Tree, but never got around to developing the subplot. Hence this AU.

The conceit here is that everything in the plot of Books Three and Four still happens – Jack still drugs Regina to Madness, he still steals Crims out from beneath her, Dafydd is still exiled, and Regina and Dafydd still have to fight their way back into power. This happens in the midst of all that.

 **Warning** : Warning for threats of violence which are later carried out onscreen. Nothing is graphic, but Jack's fate is pretty specifically spelled out, and I find it kind of horrifying, so. Please beware any triggers or squick.

* * *

Regina shrieked in glee as her white Panther Sora leapt over a fallen tree with a triumphant snarl. She couldn't thank Dafydd enough for suggesting that they ride instead of taking a carriage. She was still often melancholy after her misadventures in the Outlands, but it was hard to be depressed on such a glorious summer day.

Dafydd smiled to himself in satisfaction as he leaned over his Stallion's neck, urging Arturias on. He'd been against this excursion; Regina'd had nightmares last night, and they'd been up the rest of the night, drinking dandelion wine and telling outlandish fairy tales. He would rather she spent a lazy day in her garden, but Leferidae strode up and commandeered Regina for an excursion to the Tulgey Wood in the south of Crims. She had given in to her duty, of course. But at least Dafydd could give her this small amount of enjoyment.

The products of the tumtum tree were some of Crims' main exports. In the year or so since Regina's return to Underland and Crims' acceptance of her as Queen, the Trees had experienced as much rejuvenation as the rest of the country. While it would always be a dark and gloomy kind of place, the coronation of a true and proper Queen had chased out the unhealthy shadows that had overridden the depths of the forest. The Wood was safe again – as safe as it could ever be.

The Trees watched, leaves fluttering in approval as they watched the Guardian of the Red Lands give a tour to the new Queen. A sprightly, delicate sapling she was, too; young and green as the tenderest shoot, she seemed too fragile to stand up to even the gentlest breeze, let alone the gales that were sure to come her way.

Although, the Trees considered as they watched the Queen twine her arm through that of her Champion and lean into his strength, perhaps she would be alright. She was not an isolated, solitary organism, after all. The Queen and her Champion leaned and tangled into each other like a pair of lovers' trees, becoming less two separate beings than one hybrid system.

The Trees whispered to each other, coming to an agreement. For being brought back to life by her magic, the Trees owed the Queen a debt. If this entanglement with her oak-strong Champion was what she wanted, the Trees would shield and protect them from the storms so that they could grow strong.

* * *

The Trees whispered to each other, branches swaying in confusion as the royal carriage rumbled closer. This was their Queen; the Trees swayed toward her magic like sunflowers toward the sun. But who was this with her? It was not her oak-strong one; this sprout was diseased and rotten within, like…

The wind blew sharply through the treetop canopy in alarm. The Trees remembered this rot. This was the sickness of the Mad Queen; a root rot the Trees had thought themselves free of forever.

And salt the soil, but the weed's insidious disease had been planted in their lovely sprout! She was a healthy, vigorous sapling, fed by the magic of her home soil and bolstered by her oak-strong lover. But even the healthiest tree could fall ill if its roots were attacked; even the strongest tree could be felled.

They would need to keep an eye on this upstart weed. And if it began choking out their sapling's roots, the Trees would see the weed ripped out of the garden with extreme prejudice.

* * *

Ever had it been true that the life and health of the land and its sovereign were entwined; one and the same. The land's health sustained the Queen; the Queen's prolonged illness caused the land to likewise sicken.

The Trees did try to remain well. They had made a promise to protect their sapling and their oak-strong; they must do everything in their power to keep up their end of the bargain. But the ground was hard and cold, the air unhealthy, the water poisoned, and against such calamities the Trees could not help but sicken, and feed into their Queen's illness.

Before long, the Trees lacked even the strength to keep out intruders. They stood, silent and helpless to prevent the rape and pillage of their numbers by the weed's seeds. Was the weed brutalizing their sapling as horribly as this? What a terrible invasive plant this weed was; and who was left to protect the garden?

* * *

There was a presence in the wood.

After an endless, deathly winter and an ever-worsening sickness, this new presence was utterly alien; frightening, almost, like a shell-shocked plant suddenly receiving sweet water.

And yet… The Trees had known this one once, hadn't they? Rich soil and sweet water, strong and steady as the eldest tree… Their oak-strong king, finally returned. Even he had not escaped the weed unscathed; he had suffered sickness, and a hatchet at his roots. And yet he stood; not as strong anymore, perhaps, but as steady and determined as ever.

 _Our King, our oak-strong_ , the Trees sighed in relief, waving their branches in welcome.

The Champion smiled grimly, laying a hand against the smooth bark of the nearest Tree.

"The Queen needs your help," he said, his eyes gone dark with anger. "The King's imprisoned her in the Tower and driven her Mad."

 _Our sapling's root rot has spread to us all_ , the Trees whispered. _Root, rock and leaf wither and die with her._

The oak-strong paled, swallowing hard. "Is there nothing you can do?"

 _We require a gardener to clear the weeds from about our roots_ , the Trees replied. _In clear soil we may grow strong, and feed our strength to our sapling._

One corner of the Champion's mouth rose in dark, vengeful glee. "I think my boys and I can handle a few weeds."

The Trees waved their branches with tired but genuine joy. With a forest guardian, as of old, the forest would soon grow strong again, and then coax their sapling back to health.

* * *

If forced, Jack could admit that there was a cruel symmetry in the fact that he was now a prisoner of the same tower where he had imprisoned his wretched, treacherous wife.

Unlike his treasonous, adulterous bride, however, Jack had a plan to regain his freedom.

After breakfast, Jack crossed to the window, flinging open the shutters, withdrawing a heel of bread and crushing it to crumbs which he scattered on his sill.

He didn't have long to wait. Within a short time, a scarlet blur streaked through the blue skies, and with an earsplitting shriek the Jubjub bird landed heavily on his windowsill.

Really, Jack had no idea why everyone in Underland was so terrified of his mother's emblematic bird. He had always found them quite docile, and very clever.

Case in point, the vial of pishalver the Jubjub dropped into his palm.

"Oh, you are a good girl," he murmured, stroking her neck as she preened. "Give me a minute."

Jack glanced around his cell before shaking his head. There was nothing in here that would aid his escape, and nothing he couldn't replace once he was free. The important thing was getting free.

The plan was simple. Get out of this godforsaken tower. Summon his Cards to his side. March on Isla Affalin, and reclaim his birthright. Run the Outlandish bastard through, preferably in front of Regina. Then strangle his lovely, impossible wife until the light left her eyes.

He couldn't wait.

Eagerly, he downed the pishalver, shrinking down to about three feet tall. The Jubjub hopped into the room and landed on the floor. Jack clambered onto her back and held on tight as she shot through the window and took off for the skies.

But there was one thing Jack had not counted on.

Jubjub birds too were creatures of Crims, and Jack's many betrayals had brought harm to them, along with the rest of the country. And Jubjubs, when betrayed, were swift and cunning in taking revenge.

The she-bird veered south, working her wings hard as she traversed the countryside. She let out a triumphant shrill caw as she flew over the Tulgey Wood, flipping in a sudden barrel roll that dislodged the Usurper from her back.

Jack's screams cut off as the topmost branches of the Trees wrapped around him, ripping and rending until nothing of the weed remained.


	2. I Danced with You Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note** : Pro tip, folks. Learn how to make your Muse(s) shut the hell up. I thought I was done with this story. I had finished all the rewrites, I had cleaned up my messes; aside from some tiny pre-posting edits, I was _done_. Five years of work, complete and finished. I had moved on to other writing projects in between posting chapters. And then my Muse came up to me and asked those two horrible, awful little words… "What if?"

And thus, this AU was born. It branches off from the main canon after Book Three, and basically explores the question, "What if, instead of drugging Regina to Madness, Jack had faked her death and sent her back to the Aboveground?"

The waltz— you'll know it when you see it— is to _River Flows In You_. Because subtext and callback.

 **Warning** : Potential trigger/squick warning for period-typical attitudes about mental illness. It's brief, but it's there.

 **Character Play-Bys** :

Richard Prince, Earl of Charmont is portrayed by Richard Madden.

* * *

A fearful, heavy silence shrouded the palace of Isla Affalin in the queendom of Crims.

The Heart Court, while never particularly boisterous, was now nearly paralyzed. The Nobles tread softly through the marble halls of the glass and gold palace, speaking in hushed, fearful whispers as they traded gossip and snatches of speculative news. The servants scurried quick and quiet as Mice, anticipating every possible order from their King and the Doctor. Even the palace guards, the Albion, were subdued as they stood watch.

A dreadful, sickening anticipation hung heavily over the residents of Isla Affalin, stifling their laughter, their words, their very breath. The staircases and hallways were watched with mounting dread as everyone's ears strained to catch even the slightest noise from the fourth floor.

All the world had been normal when the Sun rose. The servants had cleaned and cooked and prepared for the day; the Nobles had stirred from their beds and dressed, visited, eaten breakfast. Jacoby of the Elder House of Praecordia, the new King of Hearts, had gone for an early morning walk in the gardens with his advisors and the Queen's four Duchesses-in-Waiting, gathering a small posy for the Queen's pleasure.

Then the Doctor had come sprinting out of the palace, his long brown overcoat flapping in the winter wind as his words tumbled out faster than the steam of his breath.

"It's the Queen," he panted. "You have to come up, it's not good."

The half-picked bouquet of flowers had fallen from the King's hand as he sprinted for the palace door, the Doctor, Afanen Hightopp the Duchess of Tearnan Beo, and Mary Contrary the Duchess of Tearnan Og hot on his heels. They had raced through the castle, flying past startled servants and curious Nobles as they made their way up to the fourth floor. The King had pushed aside the enormous, heavy tapestry of a dancing Lion and Unicorn as the Doctor hurriedly unlocked the plain wooden door which was the only entrance to the North Tower, where Regina Miraget Hightopp Clava of the Younger House of Praecordia, Queen of Hearts, dwelled in solitude.

The King had led the charge up the narrow, winding staircase, finally bursting into the small attic room that housed his bride.

"What's happened?" Jack demanded as he strode across the room, sliding into the single unpadded wooden chair placed beside Regina's bed and taking his wife's small, cold hand.  
"I've no idea," the Queen's Nurse replied, shaking her grizzled head. "I brought up her breakfast, and then she fainted. Been this way ever since."  
"Doctor?" Jack enjoined the Royal Physician.  
The Doctor shook his head, adjusting his rectangular spectacles on his long, bony nose as he dug through his bag of tricks. "I can't find any reason for it. She's jus'… Fading."  
"What do we do, then?" Jack pressed.  
"For now?" the Doctor shrugged. "I go downstairs and make some Tea, and we hope it wakes her up."

Closing his bag, the Doctor breezed past the assembled Nobles, and rushed downstairs to his workroom. Jack turned his attention back to the bed, leaning down to bury his face in his wife's neck as he clung to her hand. Duchess Afanen walked forward, making a show of checking the Queen's temperature and comfort before pulling a squat footrest up to the other side of her bed. Regina, for her part, remained unresponsive and unaware of anyone.

From where she remained forgotten in the doorway, Duchess Contrary observed the King and his whore, clenching her jaw. They certainly had put on quite a convincing performance. She would have applauded them, had the idea not made her feel ill.

"I'll go contact the Blue Royals," she murmured, turning on her heel and descending the stairs.

As soon as she was out of earshot of the attic, Mary gathered up her skirts and rushed down the stairs, running through the halls to her suite of rooms. Ohhh, this was very, very bad; they needed help, and quickly.

Jack had arrived in Crims in the autumn, to compete in a Suitors' Joust for Regina's hand in marriage. Mary, like many Nobles in the Heart Court (and like Regina's parents, Queen Alice Clava and Laird Tarrant Hightopp), had thought the Joust a sham; a pointless Caucus Race to placate the minority opinion that the Queen should take a husband and produce an Heir to the throne. Most had assumed that Dafydd Hightopp, the Duke of Annwyn and Regina's Champion, would easily win the Joust, and that maybe that would lead to the two of them finally giving in and getting married already (because it was so completely, irritatingly, bloody obvious that they were in love, even if Mary knew for a fact that the rumors that they were lovers were false).

To the surprise of absolutely everyone, Dafydd had lost the final round of the Joust to Jacoby, the son and heir of the former Red Queen Iracebeth. To everyone's further shock, Regina had accepted Jack's suit, and the pair of them had been Betrothed. Such an action could have been attributed to the Queen's Madness; she was, after all, a Hightopp, and the Hightopps had always been Madder than most other inhabitants of Underland. But if Madness had precipitated the Betrothal, the Madness had remained through the autumn. Regina and Jacoby had been Betrothed, Bound, and Blessed, with the Blessing happening only five days ago, on the Outlandish holiday of Hogmanay, Regina's birthday. They were wed now; bound together for life, with no way to escape their Vows.

Though Regina had always been rather Mad (again, she was a Hightopp; Madness was in her blood), it had gotten much worse after her Betrothal. Her deterioration had been slow, at first; mainly characterized by periods of anxiety and uncertainty. But then her symptoms had worsened and accelerated; she had become unpredictable and unstable, prone to fits of temper where she would throw furniture, or where she would suffer an attack of Chill, literally freezing with fear from the inside out. As the Madness grew more debilitating, Jack had begun taking over Regina's duties as Ruler. One of her last sane acts had apparently (no one had been present to witness her doing it) been to name Jack her Regent until such time as she was able to retake the reins of government. Soon afterwards, Jack had moved Regina into her solitary quarters in the North Tower, for her "protection" as he called it.

It was a beautifully subtle coup d'état; so perfectly executed that most of the Nobles hadn't even realized it had happened. Fates, Jack had even convinced Alice and Tarrant that nothing serious was wrong with their beloved daughter. Had Mary not been Regina's closest friend and ally in Crims, she probably would have been fooled as well.

But as it was, Mary had watched this entire sad situation unfold; had watched Jack ensnare them all in his net and trap Regina in his puppet strings, forcing her to dance to his tune. She still wasn't sure exactly _how_ Jack had ensnared Regina, but she knew it had been done. And she was willing to bet that Afanen was involved. She knew Afanen was Jack's mistress, and had been since the Joust. She also knew that Afanen had once been betrothed to Regina's Champion Dafydd. She wasn't sure what Afanen's goal was – to get Dafydd back? To usurp Regina's place as Queen? Either way, she was a beautiful woman who knew how to manipulate powerful men, and that made her a dangerous enemy. And with Regina now in a coma, both Dafydd and Jack were free for the plucking.

The question, Mary reflected as she locked herself into her rooms, was what could be done about any of this right now. With Dafydd retired to his southern estate and Regina suddenly in an unresponsive faint, Jack had no rivals for the throne. Mary absolutely would not be surprised to learn that Iracebeth's son had only married Regina to legitimize his claim on his mother's throne. Now that they were wedded and bedded, what need had he of her? For Regina to suddenly fall ill like this… True, the young Queen's health had been failing as her Madness worsened. Repeated bouts of the deadly Chill had left her frail and weak, and the Madness sapped so much of her energy that she was likely vulnerable to any number of illnesses. But then again, Regina had been (more or less) perfectly fine at supper last night; she hadn't even really seemed tired for once. Yet now she laid prone in her bed, unresponsive to any stimulant. It screamed suspicious.

How easy would it be, Mary wondered, to induce a coma on the Queen? Mary wasn't well versed in medicine, but she did know botany. Even in her private gardens, she grew a number of plants that could induce paralysis or poison in the correct dosage. She wasn't the only one who understood how to brew tinctures and tisanes; what if…?

First things first, she decided, shaking her head. She needed to contact the Blue Royals of Witzend. Regina's parents needed to be informed that their daughter was ill. Perhaps they could transport her to the Hightopp lands of Tearmunn. The Hightopps commanded a certain magic there, called the Song of the Brae; perhaps the Music could rouse Regina from her stupor, or even ease her Madness. Surely, if there was a way to heal Regina, Tarrant would find it.

* * *

Regina, Queen of Hearts, died at sundown that same day, without ever regaining consciousness.

Her demise was witnessed by only her husband. The Doctor had gone downstairs to mix another batch of Tea; the Nurse had gone to the kitchen for her supper; Duchess Contrary was awaiting the arrival of the King and Queen of Witzend. And suddenly, quietly, in the space between one breath and another, Regina passed into Death.

The announcement of her death came as a shock to the Nobles as they sat down to supper. How very sad; Regina and Jacoby only married five days ago, and now the young King was widowed! While Regina had been in poor health recently, the fact that she was dead was completely surprising, and a terrible tragedy.

Rumor had it that Jack had sat by Regina's bedside all day, neglecting his royal duties as King Regent to hold his bride's hand and whisper in her ear, pleading with her to awaken, to return to him. Supposedly, when she'd died, he had broken down in tears, cradling her body to himself and refusing to let the Nurse and Doctor take her away. It had taken the patient, gentle persuasion of Duchess Afanen to convince Jack to let Regina go so her body could be prepared for burial. And even when Jack had agreed to allow the burial to proceed, he had demanded that he be allowed to sit in vigil with her body overnight, to have the chance to say goodbye to his beloved. How terribly romantic… And how horribly tragic.

The Queen would be buried in her ancestral home of Tearmunn, interred by her clan with their secret funerary rites to ensure that her spirit joined the Song of their people. All of the Heart Nobles were welcome to join the funerary procession that would transport the Queen's body from Isla Affalin to Tearmunn, though the actual interment would be attended only by Regina's immediate family.

It was a horribly sad ending to Regina's young life. So much of her story had been tragedy and sadness; her abduction from Underland as an infant, being raised in the Aboveground with no clue of who she truly was, returning to the land of her birth only to be kidnapped by Outlanders, reunited with her family and married only to die on the very cusp of happiness. Perhaps her Champion had been right to call her dearbadan-de, _butterfly_ ; butterflies never did live very long, did they?

What a terrible sorrow for King Jack, the Nobles murmured to each other. He and Regina had met only a season ago, but hadn't it been love at first sight? Jack had been instantly smitten with the young Queen, and while there had been rumors about her relationship with her Champion, Regina had been quick to accept Jack's suit when he won the Joust. And they had been Betrothed, Bound and Blessed so quickly; they must have been very much in love to rush that process. It would have been a beautiful love story… But now Regina was dead, and Jack was alone.

What would their King do now? He had lost the love of his life, and he was clearly deeply grieved. Why, just look at him; he had cried so hard that he'd broken the capillaries around his eyes. He was pale, his eyes puffy and red and surrounded by deep shadows. He must be utterly Heartbroken… What would he do without her?

And what was the fate of the queendom now? They had a King in Jack, and he had done such a good job as Regina's Regent; surely he would do just as well ruling in his own right. But without Regina, Jack had no Queen, and no hope of an Heir. Who would follow him to the throne? Of course it was somewhat tacky to wonder about this now, with Regina not even buried yet, but one must be practical. What would become of the Royal Line?

* * *

In the dead of night, while Jack sat vigil for his deceased bride, Duff, the captain of Jack's Albion Kingsguard, smuggled a small bundle out of the North Tower. Keeping to the shadows, he snuck his burden into Jack's study, locking the door behind him.

The Looking Glass gleamed in the gloomy darkness, already rippling and ready for travel. Muttering a destination (both place and time), Duff tossed his bundle through the Glass, closing the portal after it before leaving as silently as he'd come.

* * *

In the suite of rooms reserved for the use of the Blue Queen and Sapphire King of Witzend, four conspirators sat around the King's Tea Table, as deep in discussion as they were into their cups.

"She's not dead," Dafydd Nazar Hightopp, Queen's Champion and Duke of Annwyn, declared.  
"How can you be certain?" Alice Hightopp Clava, the Blue Queen of Clubs, asked, dabbing at her sore, red eyes with a black handkerchief edged in azure lace.  
"Because if she'd truly died, she'd have killed Dafydd as well," Tarrant Hightopp, Sapphire King of Witzend and Laird of the Hightopp Clan, replied wearily, spinning his Hat on his finger. "Heart-bound as they are. If one's distressed, the other feels it; if one dies, so does the other. And he looks pretty alive to me."  
"Then where is she?" Alice demanded, clenching the arms of her chair. "What has Jack done?"  
"If his game is to take the throne, then he has to have taken her out of the country," Dafydd reasoned. "It's not enough to lock her in the North Tower and hope no one notices. She has to be gone, and someplace where no one will see her and know who she is."  
"Oversea, then," Tarrant speculated. "Or in the Otherland."  
Dafydd shook his head. "I don't think so. There's too great a chance she'd just make her way right back."  
"Then where-"

Alice cut herself off, paling as her eyes flew open. She exchanged horrified glances with her husband as their nightmares came true for the second time.

"Above," Alice whispered. "He's sent her back Above."  
"Can he do that?" Mary asked, furrowing her brow.  
"He told me some time ago that he had owned a looking glass business Up There," Alice said, wringing her hands. "He used it to find a proper Looking Glass, to make his way home. If anyone in Underland could facilitate travel that way, it's Jack."  
"Chesh's teats," Tarrant swore heavily, falling back against the back of his armchair with a heavy fwoomp.  
"I'm going after her," Alice declared.  
"Alice-" Tarrant started, his voice drained.  
"No," she cut him off. "Oh no. We are not having this argument again, Hatter. I gave into you last time. Not this time."  
"You don't even know what I was going to say," Tarrant protested.  
"Of course I do," Alice retorted. "You're going to tell me it's far too dangerous, that I don't know where or when Jack has sent her, and that I could lose all memory of Underland as soon as I break through into the Above. And then you'll try to stall me by asking me to at least send for Zhithene and the Oraculum. And all the while, our daughter will be on her own, God only knows where, and I am not doing that to her again!"

When Alice finished her rant, she found herself on her feet, towering over the table and fuming. Drawing a deep breath, she sat back down, setting her teacup onto her saucer with a sharp _clink_.

"Are you finished?" Tarrant inquired mildly.

She glared at him, but didn't reply.

"What I was actually going to say is that you can't go tonight," Tarrant rebuked her. "Jack would notice your absence. And he's smart, he'd probably guess your game, and he'd be able to move Regina before you could get to her."  
"Oh," Alice said blankly, before blinking and ducking her head sheepishly. "I hadn't thought of that."

Dafydd had to hand it to Tarrant; the Hatter didn't roll his eyes at his wife. Dafydd was positive he wouldn't have been capable of that much restraint. (Thank the Fates, he silently but fervently prayed, that Regina mostly took after her da.)

"For now, we have to play by Jack's rules," Tarrant said, leaning in and looking every inch the Resistance leader he'd been in his youth. "We act as though we believe Regina gone, and we travel to Tearmunn. After we've buried the… I do hope there's not an actual body in the coffin," he interrupted himself before refocusing. "We shall sequester ourselves in the High House for a few days. We're her family and we're grieving, it's natural enough that we'd go into seclusion. Jack will need to head right back to Crims, of course. And we'll use one of the Looking Glasses in the High House to find Regina and bring her home."  
"Um… Your Majesty…" Mary said with a dubious face. "Can you actually go Above?"  
"Of course I can go Above," Tarrant frowned.  
"No, Mary has a point," Alice said, furrowing her brow. "You're fully Underlandian, Tarrant. And Underland erases the memories of those who travel between worlds. Unless you're a Rabbit using one of the Rabbit Holes," she amended.  
"Or if you're Alice," Mary added.  
"Well… yes, that too," Alice said modestly, before returning her attention to her spouse. "If you were to attempt to go Above, it could do terrible things to your mind."  
Tarrant scowled. "Ah dornt caur," he informed his wife. "She's mah dochter jist as much as she is yours, Aam jist as much a Champion as ye, an' Aam bringin' 'er haem."  
"Well, _I_ shall care very much if a trip Above addles your brains!" Alice protested. "And Regina's going to need you terribly when we get her back. Are you willing to risk losing all memory of your daughter?"

Well, Tarrant had no defense against that argument, and he knew it.

"I'll go with her," Dafydd offered.

Now, on the one hand, this was entirely expected of him. Not only was Dafydd the Ace of Hearts and the Queen's avowed Champion, but he was her heart-bonded Beloved. Of all of them, Dafydd had the greatest right to travel Above and rescue the love of his life.

But…

"You're Underlandian," Alice pointed out. "If you go Above, you won't remember."  
Dafydd smiled darkly. "I'm stubborn," he replied. "I'll hold onto her."  
"Brilliant as ever, idiot man," declared a purring, sing-song voice. "I think I've got a smarter plan."

Everyone turned to watch as the long-absent Cheshire Cat materialized in Tarrant's lap.

"Where in the five queendoms have you been?" Dafydd snapped, glaring at his mortal enemy.  
"Stuck in my lovely, dark, damp, musty Cave," the Cat mewed, offering her belly to Tarrant's skritches. "The Spirit thought I must learn to behave."  
Dafydd scoffed. "Well, clearly you've done a brilliant job," he sneered. "Regina's gone."  
Witzend hissed, rolling over and swiping her claws at him. "My Butterfly is just where she needs to be. Alive and Above and safe and free," she snapped. "You're the one who's a dog in the manger— didn't tell the truth, left her alone and in danger."  
"That's quite enough, the both of you," Alice cut in.

It was almost amusing to watch the Cat and Champion glare at each other. Rolling her eyes, Alice exchanged a long-suffering glance with Tarrant. This bickering wasn't helpful in the least, and they needed to refocus.

Although, with Witzend's long absence, her new speech patterns and her blue eyes swirling with Madness, could she really be trusted to help?

The Cat huffed in irritation, but calmed under the influence of Tarrant's patient petting. Butting his hand with her head, she spoke again.

"You will lose your memories if you go Above," she informed Dafydd. "But I can preserve the thought of your love."  
"How will that help?" the young Outlander frowned.  
"You will know there's someone you need to find," the Cat explained. "And until you have her, you'll know no peace of mind."  
"But what about everything else?" Tarrant asked. "His survival skills, combat, protective instincts-"  
"I can't erase him. More's the pity," the Cat said snidely. "Just suppress what's not useful in an Aboveground city. He'll still be Dafydd and will protect your wife, he just won't remember anything of his life."

Tarrant frowned, but Dafydd was quick to voice his assent to the Cat's scheme.

"My memories aren't important," he insisted. "The important thing is bringing Regina home."  
Tarrant sighed in surrender. "Very well. Be safe, both of you."  
Alice scoffed. "Aren't I always?"

The resounding silence answered that question more eloquently than words could ever have done.

* * *

Regina's funeral took place on a cold, clear day at her beloved Brae.

Alice and Tarrant had spared no expense for this sham of a ceremony, and the result was something very like what their daughter might actually want for her internment. Candles casting a soft glow over all of Hatsfield; delicate, fluttering irises in the hand of each mourner; and of course, music. A near-perfect deception.

Of course, every member of the Hightopp clan knew the pageant to be a mummery and a falsehood. The Song could not lie. If Regina were truly dead, the Music would be wailing its grief, bleeding for the hole created by Regina's absence. To be sure, the Song was subdued, and murmuring worry for her safety. But shadows of Regina's melodic thread still wound through the fabric of the Music, and so every blooded or clan-bound Hightopp knew that she was not lost; only missing (again).

They held their tongues and kept their secret, as their laird had asked. Not that he needed to ask; the Song clearly indicated that Regina was in some danger (again). If their silence could protect her, keep silent they would.

The important thing was, Jack didn't realize that they had all seen through his deception. Much of the credit for that had to be laid at the feet of Alice and Tarrant, who looked every inch the grieving parents.

In all honesty, it wasn't a difficult ruse. This whole scenario was terribly, horribly similar to the nightmare they had lived for eighteen years, when their beloved baby had vanished without a trace. The memories of that time— the mourning, the Madness, the self- and other-blaming and resultant separation— were inescapable. Neither Alice nor Tarrant had been able to sleep last night. They had lain in bed with Brax between them, trying to block out the ominous and lonely silence of their daughter's absence with stories of those Lost Years. A painful vigil, to be sure, but also healing. They rarely spoke of those nearly two decades of separation; it was good to share those pains, past and present.

Jack didn't stay long past the internment of the (hopefully empty) coffin. Alice and Tarrant insincerely offered to give him quarters, since he was family; Jack just as insincerely thanked them but pled his grief was too fresh to remain so near her grave. Empty, courteous farewells later, and he left for Crims.

Dafydd remained on Hightopp Hill as his enemy and rival departed. They'd managed not to cross paths all day, and he really didn't feel like polluting his homeland with Jack's blood.

Besides, he wanted to be here. He always felt closest to Regina when he was on the Brae.

Sighing, he tilted his head back, the Song washing over him as he stared into the dusky twilight (was the Aboveground literally above them? Would Regina sense his gaze on her, as she so often did?).

"I'll find you again, ma taavi," he promised her quietly. "I'll bring you home."

* * *

Four hours after the funeral, Alice Hightopp Clava broke a promise, and took a trip she'd sworn she would never make again.

* * *

It was cold, and dark, and nowhere she knew.

Where was she?

Where was _he_?

There was something, someone important, but she couldn't remember…

She closed her eyes and surrendered to the encroaching dark.

* * *

Alice jerked awake with a gasp, startling and looking around wildly. Early morning. She wasn't entirely certain where she was, aside from the middle of nowhere; nothing but fields, rolling hills, and the occasional tree as far as the eye could see. She was on the side of a dirt road, well used if the deep tire grooves were anything to go by.

Wherever Regina was, it wasn't here.

Inhaling shakily, Alice bit back the initial wave of panic. Fear wasn't useful here. She was the Champion; she had her quest. Now was the time to focus, to create a plan.

To find Regina, she needed to figure out where— and _when_ — she was. Alice had instructed the Looking Glass to bring Dafydd and herself to Regina, so step two needed to be getting to civilization. Secure lodging, and money. Then start the search.

Alice nodded, feeling better now that there was an actionable plan. Drawing a deep breath, she scrambled to her feet, dusting off her striped blue traveling dress and resetting her top hat on her head before looking for her traveling companion.

Fortunately, he wasn't far away; sprawled gracelessly on the ground a few yards to her right. Rolling her eyes— had the Looking Glass dropped them from the sky?— she walked over to him, crouching and shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up. Dafydd. Waaaaaake up," she grumbled, slightly slapping his cheeks.

He jerked awake as suddenly as she had, and Alice only just managed to jump back and avoid being headbutted as he lurched up.

"Where am I? Where is she?" he asked, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.  
"Easy, easy!" she exclaimed, holding up her hands in a peaceful gesture. "It's alright, Dafydd."  
Dafydd spun to face her, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where are we?"  
"Deep breaths," she admonished. "Do you remember anything?"

Dafydd paused, his face scrunching up as he cast around in his mind. Alice sighed as his eyes widened in panic; well, brimini and hellfire. She had hoped Dafydd would be magically immune to Underland's memory wiping.

"Easy," she cautioned him again. "Fortunately for you, I do remember. Did you manage to keep anything at all?"  
Dafydd frowned, shifting his weight in a rare show of insecurity. "There's… someone. A girl. She's… I need…"  
Alice smiled, softly, grateful that Witzend had told true. "Regina. My daughter, and your heart-bonded. We're here to find her."

Dafydd frowned, his posture shifting to angry Champion as his blue eyes darkened with a promise of violence.

"Gone," he muttered, clenching his fists. "Taken. Not safe. Get her back."  
"We will," Alice promised, laying a hand on his arm. "But you must keep your head. You're no good to her running around half-Mad."

Dafydd grumbled, but calmed himself while Alice looked around, trying to plan.

"Right," she muttered. "Well, there's no point in our staying here. We may as well pick a direction and start walking. We'll find a town eventually."

Dafydd glanced both directions before determinedly heading to the left. Shrugging, Alice gathered up her skirts and followed. Was Dafydd following some inner sense, telling him which direction Regina was? Either way, she supposed it didn't really matter; the point was getting to a starting place in their search.

"Let me see, we'll need a cover story," she murmured after perhaps three-quarters of an hour of walking. "I shall be Alice Iplam, Duchess of Tearmunn. Tarrant and I met overseas while I was still with the Company, and we eloped. But he lost a great fortune, and we had to leave the baby behind while we started over in… oh… South Africa. That sounds appropriately foreign, and it should cover any of our… Underlandian quirks, shall we say? Yes, that should do," she nodded. "And we shall pass you off as… um… David Conrad. Our ward. We'll say you enlisted in the Army and spent time in India, before your shoulder got you invalided home. Yes, I think so," she nodded in satisfaction. "Now, we need-"

But Alice's words died in her throat at the sound of hoof beats. Oh thank Absolem, a person! Sending a silent thanks to Lady Luck for her kindness, Alice threw her arms in the air to attract the rider's attention.

But as the horse came pounding through the field, Alice stilled, her hope turning to awe, and then to alarm. She was all too familiar with that slight figure, the shock of vibrant red-gold curls that had escaped their hairpins but not their hat.

In recent months and because of her Tea Sickness, Regina had traveled exclusively by carriage. Even before then, Alice had never seen her daughter ride her Panther this hard and roughly. So perhaps she could be forgiven for not realizing just how fine a horsewoman her baby was. Even so, Regina was clearly only just barely in control of the immense grey hunter, and it seemed inevitable that she should fall…

Dafydd was already in action (of course he was). He hopped a fence into some farmer's field, corralling a work horse. No saddle or bridle, but since when had he needed either? A quick word, and they were off, chasing after the rampaging horse. The work horse wasn't nearly so fine as the hunter, but Dafydd was possibly the best horseman in Underland, and by luck or skill he gained on the runaways just as the hunter reared.

The clamoring wildness in Dafydd's chest eased as he spoke to the spirited animal, slowly calming the hunter down from his wild run. When the horse whickered docilely, Dafydd transferred his attention from horse to rider— and then exhaled in a rush, all the tension leaving his body.

It was _her_. The pale skin and enormous green eyes, the shy smile and riotous curls. He hadn't been able to remember anything when he woke this morning, not until he saw her; blasphemy at its blackest. How _dare_ Underland try to take his Gia from him?

"Are you alright?" he asked roughly, drawing deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.  
"Yes, thank you," she nodded breathlessly. "Samson's quite spirited, you see, and it's such a lovely day… I'm afraid he simply insisted on a proper run."  
"He's a fine animal," Dafydd agreed, running a soothing hand along the hunter's neck and shoulder. "Too big for you."  
She laughed, shortly. "My fiancé said the same thing. But then, he thinks anything larger than a pony is too much for me."

Dafydd stilled, frowning slightly as alarm bells rang a klaxon in his head. Fiancé? What? No, surely that was terribly wrong, fiancés were trouble; the last one had been a horrible mistake…

Shaking his head, he refocused his attention on her. He couldn't tell, by looking at her, how long she had been back Above. But she looked well; at least, much better than she had the last time he'd seen her, the night of her wedding to the Jackalope. She was healthy, and sane, and safe; praise the Aboveground for that much, at least. She gave no indication that she knew or recognized him, but she was safe. That was a start.

"Is your fiancé often in the habit of letting you ride helter-skelter through the countryside on a too-large charger, all by yourself?" he asked. "Miss-?"  
"Oh, how rude of me!" she exclaimed, coloring prettily. "I'm Jane, Jane Ascot. And you are?"  
"Conrad," he replied, only just remembering the alias Alice had devised for him. "David Conrad."  
"A pleasure, Mr. Conrad," Regina (Fates, _Jane_ was a terrible name for her; wouldn't Tarrant be appalled!) nodded. "And in answer to your question, no. My fiancé and the rest of our party will no doubt catch up momentarily. But what of you? Do you make it a habit to pop up out of nowhere to rescue damsels in distress?"  
He grinned. "Only on special occasions."

He would have said more, but the pounding hoof beats of several horses caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina's spine stiffen as she visibly steeled herself, a reaction that had him hard-shifting into Champion mode, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.

"Jane!" exclaimed a tall, slightly muscled man as he rode his own powerful charger to them. "Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine, Richard," Regina replied. "Samson didn't hurt me. And in any case, Mr. Conrad was here to help me."

As a general rule, Dafydd was not fond of men who attempted to look down on him. True, he was Outlandish-born, and had commanded a mercenary army for most of his life. But he was also a Duke, a General, and a Queen's Champion. However powerful this Uplandish dandy thought he was, Dafydd could almost guarantee he held more power in his native land. So instead of whatever sniveling deference this unwanted suitor expected, Dafydd raised his chin, calling on his fearsome Champion mantle.

"Good man," the dandy said stiffly. "You have my thanks, sir. Is there any way I can repay you?"  
"My foster mother and I would appreciate a lift," Dafydd offered. "She's a ways back on the road."  
"Of course," Richard nodded, turning his charger around and taking off.  
Dafydd glanced at Regina. "Your fiancé?"  
"Yes," she nodded, blushing faintly. "Richard Prince, the Earl of Charmont. It's still very new."  
"Congratulations," he offered, as though the word wasn't sour in his mouth (Fates, not again…).  
She smiled, her blush deepening as she batted one wild curl out of her face. "Thank you."  
"How did you meet?" he asked.  
"He attended my foster father's retirement ball two months ago," Regina revealed. "I… well. I fell unwell," she said, with the air of someone telling a well-rehearsed story. "Richard found me after I wandered off into the gardens. He was quite solicitous. He started calling after I recovered. He only just proposed two weeks ago. It hasn't been announced yet."  
Dafydd managed, somehow, to conceal his relief. "Why not?" he asked instead.  
"My foster mother insisted we throw a ball to make the announcement," Regina replied. "She's… a great fan of pomp."

Dafydd would have replied, but they'd reached Alice, and she jumped up from the stump she'd enthroned herself on, her face twisting in concern as she utterly ignored Richard and assessed their condition herself.

"Darling! Are you alright?" she asked, her gaze shifting between Dafydd and Regina.  
"Fine," Dafydd assured her, trying to nonverbally reassure the Queen as he helped Regina off her mount.  
"I'm perfectly well, madam, thank you," Regina smiled. "Your son came to my rescue."  
"Good for him," Alice said, doing a masterful job of hiding her non-surprise. "Dearest, aren't you going to introduce us?" she prompted him, mostly managing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.  
"Wha-? Oh," Dafydd blinked.

He shook himself, feeling quite foolish. Right, of course. Regina's memories of Underland had all been erased, and she'd lost her mathair all over again. Oh, wouldn't she be irritated about that.

"Right," he nodded. "Mathair-" –and wasn't that a trip, calling Alice _Mathair_ – "Miss Jane Ascot," he managed to say without making a face at the terrible, horrible, too wrong name. "My foster mother, the Duchess of Tearmunn."  
"A pleasure, your Grace," Regina smiled, sketching a pretty curtsey.  
"The pleasure is mine," Alice said, her voice steady though her eyes burned too intensely for the meeting. "Ascot? As in Lord Richard Ascot?"  
"Yes, he's my foster father," Regina smiled.  
"What a stroke of luck!" Alice exclaimed, and really, she was a much better actress than Dafydd would have thought. "I was Alice Kingsleigh before I married. Your foster father took over the Company from my father."  
Regina stared, her eyes wide as her jaw dropped. "Alice Kingsleigh? Truly? My heavens, I can hardly credit it! What a small world it is. You must come back with me, I know Papa Richard would love to see you."  
"Thank you," Alice smiled, relieved at the turn of events. "I'd love to see him as well."  
"Your son mentioned you were in need of assistance, Lady Alice?" Richard artfully broke in.  
"Indeed," Alice smiled, shrugging her shoulders in a charmingly hopeless gesture. "It appears that the hackney I hired to take us to London fleeced us. All of our clothing and money taken."  
"How terrible," Regina gasped. "You must come stay with us."

Alice opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted as several young people rode up to them. One of the riders— older than the others in the party, but still a baby in Alice's eyes— leapt off her horse, rushing to Regina's side. Alice bit back an amused chuckle; Fates, this young lady reminded her so strongly of Lily.

"Good heavens, Jane!" she exclaimed, taking Regina's hand. "You gave us all such a fright! Are you alright?"  
"I'm perfectly fine, Lottie," Regina laughed. "And even if I hadn't been, Mr. Conrad came right to my rescue."  
"Thank goodness," Lottie sighed, shooting Dafydd a grateful smile. "It's like something from a newspaper serial."  
"Oh!" Regina gasped, bouncing in excitement before pulling Lottie to Alice. "Lottie, you must see! Your Grace, may I present my friend Alice Charlotte Devereaux. Your niece, by your sister Margaret. Lottie, this is Lady Alice, Duchess of Tearmunn. Your aunt."  
Alice gaped. "Margaret's daughter? Oh, surely not! I can't have been gone long enough for you to be grown!"  
Lottie stared, her eyes wide with shock. "You are my Aunt Alice? Truly?"

A moment later, Alice and Lottie were embracing, laughing and shedding tears of joy. Dafydd watched Regina as she watched the ladies, and his heart ached at the lost sadness lingering in the corners of her smile. Brimini, of course; Jane had thought she was an unwanted foundling. Regina had told him during one of their midnight storytellings that she had invented a fairy tale kingdom where her parents ruled and yearned for her— vague memories of Underland, transmuted into a lonely child's fairy tales. Had Regina begun dreaming of her Wonderland again, since her return Above?

"Well, that settles it, then," Richard said, sliding an arm around Regina's waist (Dafydd tried not to glare). "You must come stay with us until after the ball."  
"Yes, of course, if it will cause no trouble," Alice laughed.

* * *

Dafydd leaned back in his armchair, his eyes lazily taking in the details of Lord Ascot's study as he memorized the details Alice had masterfully woven for their cover story.

Captain David Conrad, an officer in the British cavalry. Served in Afghanistan and India until a gunshot to his shoulder invalided him home. Foster son to Alice and Tarrant Iplam; they took him in as a boy because his parents were distant relatives of Tarrant's. (Dafydd thought that a particularly clever twist of the truth.)

Tarrant had been a merchant Alice met in China. She had thought him a lost acquaintance, but they met by chance when Alice returned to London, and immediately eloped. They had settled in Tarrant's homeland in Scotland until a disastrous trade agreement bankrupted Tarrant. They relocated to South Africa, where Tarrant rebuilt his fortune and eventually earned a Dukedom.

"It's quite a story, Alice," Lord Ascot said thoughtfully, a crafty gleam in his eye. "Now tell me the truth."  
To her credit, Alice did a passable job of looking confused. "Sir?"  
"You were never meant for a mundane life, Alice," Lord Ascot informed her. "A fighter like you, always railing against Society's expectations? No, I think you've been somewhere far stranger than Africa."

Alice's startled gaze flew to Dafydd, and despite himself he burst out laughing.

"Might as well, Alice," he shrugged. "I'm not so good an actor as you, Regina'll see through me sooner or later."  
Lord Ascot's bushy brows rose. "And who, may I ask, is Regina?"  
Alice bit her lip, turning to face him. "Let me tell you a story, sir."

And so she did.

She told of an unhappy girl trapped in a Society she could never understand, who found happiness and love in a mad, wild wonderland that called her to become its Champion and, eventually, its Queen.

And then she told of that girl's daughter. A girl who had been stolen from her crib and raised by strangers in her mother's homeland, until she made her way home. A beautiful, sprightly, bonny lass, whom everyone loved and protected, but perhaps none so much as her Champion, her Beloved.

Imagine, then, everyone's confusion when their precious girl was tricked into engagement with a rival prince. Imagine their fear when the prince began to slowly poison their little butterfly, when he drove her to the brink of insanity. Then imagine their horror when the prince married their wee lassie, when she was declared dead five days later.

"And then, imagine her parents' dismay when they realized their precious daughter's fate was even worse than death," Alice finished her tale quietly, her brown eyes brimming with tears. "To realize that their little queen had been banished once again, exiled to the land of her childhood, a place where she'd retain no memory of her family, her true self, or the three years she'd spent in her homeland. What would you do?"  
"I should come after her," Lord Ascot replied, reaching for Alice's hand. "So. All this while, and I have been raising your daughter."  
"So it would seem," Alice smiled tremulously. "She has always spoken of you fondly."  
"I've tried, m'girl," Lord Ascot sighed. "But I'm afraid she's not had the happiest of childhoods."  
"Nor the happiest of adulthoods," Alice replied regretfully. "Dafydd's had the most luck in making her happy."

Lord Ascot nodded thoughtfully, his keen gaze fixating on the young man who had kept quiet throughout Alice's story. In fact, he seemed like he hadn't been paying any attention at all; his gaze had fastened on a cabinet card photograph of Jane that had been taken for her eighteenth birthday, and he seemed cognizant of nothing else.

For a moment, Sir Richard observed the man whom, according to Alice, his Jane desperately loved. That he was a soldier was clearly not just a story of Alice's; it was immediately obvious in his stillness, and the tension in his shoulders. Something in his poise and the tilt of his head betrayed him as a member of whatever aristocracy existed in Alice's mad world. Lord Ascot nodded to himself, deciding he quite liked the look of his child's lover.

But of course it would never do to give his approval immediately. What was the fun in that?

"So, young man," he said, leaning back in his armchair. "You've been courting my daughter, have you?"

Alice choked into her teacup, very nearly spitting the beverage everywhere as she struggled to contain her laughter. Dafydd, recognizing the overprotective zeal of a doting athair, straightened his shoulders to face the inquisition (while holding back an amused smile, because really? Tarrant's parental grilling hadn't been enough?).

"Yes sir," he nodded. "Against Laird Tarrant's wishes, I'm afraid. He didn't want us betrothed in secret."  
"Clearly, your husband is a man of wise and sober judgment, Alice," Lord Ascot nodded.

At that, Alice and Dafydd exchanged glances and lost the battle against their laughter.

"Tarrant is mad as a hatter," Alice replied, rolling her eyes as Dafydd laughed again. "Hush, you. It's an Aboveground saying."  
"Of course it is," he acquiesced, hands held up in surrender.  
Lord Richard glanced at Alice. "I'm sure you and your husband have thoroughly vetted this fellow. But would you mind terribly if I…?"  
"Of course not," Alice demurred, hiding her smile in her teacup. "She's your daughter too."  
"Thank you, m'girl," Lord Ascot said with a solemn nod. "Now then, young man. Your occupation?"  
"I'm Regina's Champion and Ace," Dafydd answered, submitting to the interrogation with good grace.

At Lord Ascot's raised eyebrow, Alice laid a hand on his arm, resigning herself to playing translator.

"Regina's personal bodyguard, and the Commander-General of her military," she murmured in explanation.  
Lord Ascot nodded, suitably impressed. "Your rank at Court?" he asked shrewdly.  
Dafydd shifted, still not entirely comfortable with this fact. "The Duke of Annwyn."  
"Very high ranking, only just beneath the royalty," Alice confirmed Lord Ascot's suspicions. "Roughly equivalent to the Duke of Somerset, I think."

Lord Richard's eyebrows flew upwards. While it had been obvious that Dafydd was of the nobility, he hadn't guessed that the man would be a Duke. That was an even better marriage prospect than Jane's Earl— a callous thought, but a true one.

And yet, what would any of this matter if his darling little Queen of Sheba wouldn't be happy?

Accordingly, Lord Ascot fixed the young Duke with his very most serious gaze, leaning forward in his seat.

"Tell me, lad," he said gravely. "Did my Jane choose you freely? From what Alice has said, she was tricked into marriage with this Jack fellow, and her engagement to Lord Charmont is more arranged than anything. So what of you?"

Dafydd bit the inner corner of his lip, shooting an uncertain glance at Alice. Lord Ascot raised a curious eyebrow; had the boy proposed without speaking to her parents? Bad form, that.

"I should have proposed to her years ago," he said finally. "Maybe then we could have avoided all of this nonsense."  
"Why didn't you?" Sir Richard asked shrewdly.  
Dafydd's gaze dropped to his hands. "Stupidity," he replied bitterly.  
"It wasn't entirely your fault," Alice said.

Dafydd stared at Alice in surprise. The Blue Queen took no pains to hide the fact that she wasn't Dafydd's biggest fan. Their relationship was tenuous at best, so to hear Alice defend him— and against Regina— was startling.

"True, you should have spoken up after she was kidnapped," Alice acknowledged. "But so should she. You've had three years to sort yourselves out. My Stars, Tarrant and I should just have ordered the pair of you Joined as part of the Reunification. Such things are very commonly done Up here."  
One corner of Dafydd's mouth rose in a bitter smile. "Too late now, I guess."

At that, a pall came over the faces of the Underlandians. Lord Ascot tilted his head thoughtfully, thinking through the intricacies of the situation.

"What was your plan, coming here?" he asked.  
"Regina will have no memories of Underland," Alice sighed. "But she must return Below. She is a Queen Down there, and if she is not returned… well. We can't leave Jack on the throne."  
"Ah," Lord Ascot sighed. "I knew I was soon to lose my little Sheba. But I must admit, you propose taking her even farther than I had anticipated."

Alice and Dafydd exchanged guilty glances. When Jack had appeared Below from the year 2009, the repercussions had hit Regina hard. She had not spoken to either her parents or her Beloved about the loss of her foster family, the fact that she would never be able to say goodbye to them. But they knew she carried the loss— especially of her beloved Papa Richard— close to her heart.

"I wonder…" Alice said hesitantly. "I wonder if you might not be able to visit. There are ways between the worlds, and I think you would love Underland."  
"Thank you," Lord Richard smiled. "I would like that. Now, back to your plan…?"  
"Yes," Alice nodded. "It was suggested to us that Regina's memories might be retrieved if the appropriate trigger were applied."  
"Ah," Lord Ascot nodded. "Dafydd, then."  
"Amor vincit omnia," Alice shrugged.  
"Well then, the pair of you must attend our ball, in a bit less than a fortnight," he suggested. "And stay as my guests in the meantime."  
"You old schemer," Alice smiled.  
"Only when a happy ending is at stake," Lord Richard replied complacently.

* * *

Jane sat at her vanity, staring mutely at the reflection in the mirror. Gracious, was this truly her?

The ball gown was the latest creation a la mode from Paris. From a tightly corseted bodice, the pale, pale blush pink satin gown fell outwards into a graceful full skirt, with a hint of a train. The bodice, neckline, and hem of the skirt were decorated with heavy silver embroidery. It was an utterly beautiful dress— and not something she ever thought her color-allergic foster mother would purchase for her.

" _Well really, Jane," Mother Agnes had sniffed as she supervised the final fitting of the gown. "You are about to marry into the old aristocracy. You will be looked to as a sartorial inspiration, and I will not have this family looked down upon."_

Hesitantly, Jane lifted one gloved hand, gently touching the elegant, tastefully expensive sapphires around her neck. The demi-parure of earrings, necklace and bracelets were her engagement present from Richard, to go with her ring. She had to admire his taste; the stones were utterly beautiful.

 _She stared at herself in the mirror for just a moment before she had to leave. Her ball gown was voluminous, but delicate; she looked like she might just float away on the next breeze. Against the sky blue tulle, the diamonds and sapphires glittered almost as brightly as the night sky around her wrists, in her ears, around her neck, atop her head…_

Clearing her throat, Jane shook her head, blinking rapidly to refocus. These lapses in concentration had been happening more and more frequently in the three months since Papa Richard's retirement ball; the night she had apparently blacked out for a time, because she had awoken in the garden with no memory of how she'd gotten there, but she'd been terribly feverish and rambling as though she were mad.

She had hallucinated small things, at first, and only in her dreams— two kittens frolicking and chasing each other around a slumbering wolfhound; a blond woman in blue dancing around a tea table with a ginger Scot in a kilt; a pair of eyes more blue even than her sapphires, staring into the depths of her soul as someone whispered to her. _Show my cards, gave you my heart; wish we could start all over. Nothing's making sense at all. Tried to open up my eyes; I'm hoping for a chance to make it alright… I am still painting flowers for you…_

As dreams, they were fine; they left a bittersweet longing behind, but they were forgotten easily enough. But recently, the dreams had spilled into her waking hours, bringing the _ache_ with them, until it seemed like the _ache_ was all she felt.

Between the dreams, the _ache_ , her constant restless anxiety and the way she kept losing track of time, Jane had to wonder if she might not be going truly mad.

And perhaps it was coincidence, but it truly did seem as though her symptoms had gotten worse ever since Lady Alice and Dav- Captain Conrad had accepted Papa Richard's invitation to stay as his guests until after the ball. Jane had been kept very busy, helping Mother Agnes plan this ball— and, more importantly, the announcement that would be made at the midnight supper. But she seemed to see the Duchess of Tearmunn everywhere; walking through the gardens with Papa Richard, going for rides, walking arm in arm through the house with Mother Agnes.

And when she wasn't taking tea with the Duchess, listening to her stories of world travel, it seemed she was always with Captain Conrad. He helped her learn to better manage Samson, he walked with her arm in arm through the garden, and he was always there for tea. Surely it must be strange that in the last ten days she had seen more of the Captain than of her own fiancé; stranger yet that she felt more comfortable with a virtual stranger than with the man she intended to marry.

Strangest of all, though, was Captain Conrad himself. True, they had met when he came to her rescue, but ever since then he seemed to have appointed himself her guardian, which she was sure she didn't need (however much safer she might feel, knowing he was nearby). She sensed unease in him, some sort of frustration she couldn't understand. And oddly enough, his frustration seemed to have something to do with _her_. Once or twice she had caught his gaze when he clearly didn't expect it, and the look in his eyes… Oh, she'd thought she would _burn_. She didn't understand the look in his eyes, but she _knew_ it, and it made the _ache_ throb in her chest.

She had tried her best to avoid him for the last few days. He was dangerous, both for her mental calm and her increasingly tenuous grip on reality. She hoped he and Lady Alice would leave soon, so she could be left in peace…

She wasn't sure what she would do when he left.

Shaking her head, Jane stood, resolutely putting David Conrad and his unnervingly blue eyes from her mind. They would get through this ball, part as friends, and then he would leave for South Africa while she married Richard, and everything would be as it should be.

* * *

"I'm running out of ideas, Alice."

Alice sighed in sympathy, sitting down to prepare tea as Dafydd paced, twitching in his restrictive formal clothes.

"I thought…" he sighed, pausing in his agitated stalking to run a frustrated hand over his face. "I thought she would have known me by now," he admitted, pained. "I knew her as soon as I saw her, but it's been ten days and she still doesn't remember. We've had tea, walked in the gardens, gone riding… I don't know what else to do other than chuck her down a rabbit hole," he concluded glumly as he threw himself into the chair opposite her.  
"I admit, I've been tempted to do the same," Alice agreed, pouring out the tea. Catching him looking skeptically into the cup, she harrumphed. "Hush, you. You're as bad as Tarrant. I can make tea, confound it."

He tried to suppress his snicker, truly. And if he was being fair, Alice actually could make a decent cuppa, as long as she didn't try to get fancy. It was just compared to Tarrant and Regina that everyone else's skills paled.

Sighing, Alice reached for her tea, patting Dafydd's nerveless fingers with her free hand. "Honestly? I'm not sure what the answer is. Witzend was frustratingly vague on that part. I suppose it makes sense that there's a specific trigger for each of you." Alice bit her lip, thinking. "You know Regina better than anyone," she admitted begrudgingly. "If your memories were tied to your first sight of her, what would hers be tied to?"

Dafydd frowned, thinking. What sorts of things would anchor Regina's memories— that he hadn't already tried, that is?

Anchor… Tea was her Anchorage, the safe outlet for her Madness. They'd taken tea several times, though, and nothing about Not-Jane's behavior indicated that she had any Underlandian memories awaken as she prepared the leaves and poured out cups.

Well then, what of her Obsession? Had he ever heard her telling stories Up here? That could have some promise, he considered. They used to tell each other stories all the time. Maybe he could get her to tell him more of her Arthurian fairy tales, and he could remind her of King Dafydd and Queen Aisling, and then perhaps…

He blinked, tilting his head as he caught the faint strings of the chamber orchestra warming up downstairs in the ballroom. He smiled faintly; Regina did so love to dance…

Startling, he sat bolt upright. That was it.

* * *

Laughing, Jane wove her way through the crowded ballroom arm in arm with Lottie, weaving away from the dance floor as neither of them cared for the quadrille.

It was a very successful ball, Jane thought; her foster mother would be pleased. Now they only had to get through the Announcement (as she had taken to calling it), and then she could relax… At least until tomorrow, when she would have to begin the long rounds of social calls, and then the mad flurry of wedding planning. It should be an utterly mad few months, but soon she and Richard would wed, and she would be a countess…

But no, she chastised herself; these were concerns for tomorrow. Tonight, she need only dance.

"Jane," Lottie grinned, tweaking a curl that had fallen loose from her coiffure. "I do believe that strapping young soldier is headed your way."

Jane glanced, following Lottie's gaze, then blushed to the roots of her hair. Captain Conrad had made her promise him a waltz days ago, and she would be lying if she said she was dreading it.

"Look at you!" Lottie laughed. "Blushing like a rose as though you've never had a handsome man's attention before."

This, of course, only made Jane's blush worsen, because until Richard no handsome man _had_ ever paid her heed. Wards, even of landed nobility, were not so fine a catch as a legitimate heiress. Though perhaps that was what spurred David- Captain Conrad's attention, being a ward himself. A fine pair of outcasts they made.

Before she could respond to Lottie's teasing, Captain Conrad had reached them and was leading her out to the floor. Jane hoped her gloves hid the slight tremor in her fingers; they certainly hadn't prevented the electrifying tingle of feeling his fingers holding her own.

Perhaps saving a waltz for the Captain wasn't her smartest idea. Such an intimate, romantic dance, the waltz; perhaps not the right dance to share with this man, towards whom she had such a strong, visceral reaction.

Her eyelids fluttered of their own accord, her gaze shuttering as the music began. Strange, she had never heard this composition before; yet it was so familiar, like a memory from a dream. She knew this Music, felt it in her bones and her blood, calling her home…

She drifted on the lovely, lilting melody, floating away to Wonderland. But for once, she didn't seek out a daydream of her father; nor was he the one she wanted to dance with to this, the Song of their people. She stayed firmly and safely in the arms of this man, this fascinating, infuriating, wonderful man who had never given up on her, who had even traveled to the Otherlands and to the Aboveground to keep her safe. Her Champion, her Beloved, her…

"Dafydd," Regina whispered as her head swam, and she would have swooned had he not been there to steady her.  
He blinked, staring. "Gia?" he asked cautiously, as though he were afraid to hope.  
She nodded, blinking back tears. "You're here," she murmured shakily, gripping his hand like a lifeline. "You came for me."  
His hand on her back twitched possessively as the events of the last few minutes sunk in. "Of course I came after you," he replied. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes without you getting in trouble."

Her answering laugh was more than halfway a sob, but his warm hands were enough of an anchor to keep her grounded for the moment.

"Come with me," he murmured as the music ended.

At her nod, Dafydd led Regina through the crowd, maneuvering her out to the balcony and the gardens beyond.

Alice frowned as she caught sight of Dafydd moving away from the ballroom. She fisted her skirts in preparation of going after him, when a second glance gave her pause. There was something about Jane's posture, the way she angled herself toward Dafydd… Oh thank heavens, Alice sighed to herself in relief. Regina had _finally_ broken through the amnesia.

Relieved, Alice resettled into her seat, keying back into the conversation with her mother, sister, and brother-in-law. She would give her daughter and son-in-law (call him what he was, in truth if not in fact) a few minutes to themselves before she joined them, she decided. She didn't especially need to see their reunion.

* * *

Dafydd led Regina through the gardens to a secluded, dark corner. No sooner had he ascertained they were alone, but he had his arms full of his dearbadan-de, clinging to him as though she feared he would vanish. He could have reassured her, but at present his mouth was rather occupied…

Regina would never, ever tire of being trapped between Dafydd and the nearest convenient vertical surface. As the last of the cobwebs were swept away and the reality of her past six weeks sunk in, she clung to Dafydd, terrified that if she blinked he would be gone and she would be trapped in the Above, all alone and without any way home. Dear God, she couldn't do that again, she couldn't stand to be in a world where he wasn't…

"Oh for Fates' sake, you two."

Regina gasped in surprise, wrenching away from Dafydd to stare at the interrupter before wriggling from his grasp to throw her arms around her mathair. Stars above, Alice was here; she'd come to rescue her daughter from the Above as she hadn't been able to do the first time around. Alice crooned as her daughter broke down in great, shuddering sobs, holding her close and whispering nonsense.

"Oh Mama," Regina whimpered. "I don't even know what's happened."  
"Hush, darling," Alice murmured, stroking her daughter's back. "Everything will be alright. Your husband drugged you with Tea and banished you Above, but we're here now. We've found you, and we'll go home and set everything to rights."

Regina nodded, allowing herself one more moment of leaning on her mathair before pulling away and straightening.

"There now," Alice smiled, tenderly drying Regina's tears. "Are you ready to go home?"

Regina bit her lip, glancing back toward the manor. She knew she needed to return to Underland; Crims was her home now, and she had a responsibility to the Heart to set things to rights. But could she return, knowing that it meant never seeing her foster family again? Could she bear losing them a second time, now fully understanding what that meant?

"It's not goodbye forever, sweetheart," Alice said. "I've offered to let Lord Ascot travel between worlds, and he's accepted. My family, too."

A relieved smile broke over Regina's face, before she bit her lip and glanced down at her sapphire engagement ring.

"I should tell Richard the truth," she decided. "He's a good man, and he's been very kind to me. I don't want to just jilt him."  
"Of course," Alice nodded. "I imagine he'll need some convincing. Bring him to the library, he can watch us vanish through the glass. I'm told that's quite spectacular."

Regina nodded, hugging Alice once more before catching Dafydd's fingers in hers. His mouth quirked in a half-smile, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before gently pushing her in the direction of the house, a silent promise that he'd catch up.

Drawing a fortifying breath, Regina gathered up her skirts and headed back to the house. Oh, she hoped this conversation wouldn't be completely horrible. She had told Alice the truth; Richard had been very kind to her, and she didn't relish the thought of hurting him. But neither could she remain Above and marry him. There was Crims, and more importantly Dafydd, and no matter how badly Richard took this, she had to return to where her heart truly lay.

Straightening her shoulders and raising her head, Regina re-entered the crush of the ballroom, making her way to the far side where Richard stood with a number of his friends.

"There you are," Richard commented, placing a solicitous arm around her waist. "Where have you been hiding?"  
"May I speak to you for a moment?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm.  
His brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Of course."

Smiling weakly in thanks, she took his arm, leading him upstairs to the quiet of the library. For a long moment, she stared at the massive looking glass hanging above the fireplace. Well brimini, how exactly was she supposed to get up there? Was Dafydd meant to give her a boost?

"Jane?" Richard's voice broke into her ruminations. "Are you alright? You seem… different."

Drawing another deep breath, Regina turned to face her fiancé, steeling herself for what must be done.

"Yes, I suppose I must," she admitted. "You've been very kind to me, Richard. So solicitous, and obliging… I think I might have come to love you, in time. If I were only Jane Ascot, I could not imagine a better life than to marry you."  
"What are you saying?" Richard frowned.  
"I'm saying that I'm not Jane Ascot," Regina said. "Or, well. Not just that," she amended as Richard drew away in confusion. "I really was fostered by Papa Richard and Mother Agnes, and they really did name me Jane. But I am the daughter of Alice Kingsleigh and Tarrant Hightopp. My true name is Regina."

Richard looked understandably stunned, and with a silent apology, Regina pressed on.

"I don't belong here, in England. I must return home, to my parents, my brother. My queendom."  
Richard blinked. "Queendom? What on earth-?"  
"I'm from a place called Underland," she continued. "My mama is Queen of a land called Witzend. My da is Duke of Tearmunn, and the laird of Clan Hightopp. And I am Queen of Crims. I was banished here by my husband, Jack."  
"Husband?" Richard asked, searching Regina's face. "Jane, are you alright? Are you having a relapse of your illness?"  
"No," she sighed, before reconsidering. "Well. Maybe. Madness runs in Da's family. I suppose my own could be resurfacing, now that I remember. Come to think of it, I must have been having an episode when you found me. That would explain why I don't remember much."

Richard's face shuttered in that way particular to the _ton_ 's disdain of physical and mental abnormality.

"I see," he said tightly. "And your parents were aware of your… infirmity… when our engagement was arranged?"  
"Of course not," she rushed to reassure him, though he drew away when she tried to lay a hand on his arm. "My Madness didn't develop until I returned to Underland."  
"Returned to-? You are making very little sense, Jane," Richard said. "But if you are trying to tell me you are mentally unfit, perhaps it's for the best that we don't wed."  
"No, I'm telling you we can't wed because I must return Below," she corrected him. "Though of course the fact that I am currently wed is also an impediment to our marriage. To say nothing of the fact that I'm also Betrothed."  
"You expect me to believe that you are both married and betrothed to two separate men?" Richard scoffed.  
"It's very complicated," Regina shrugged.  
"Regina Miraget Hightopp Clava Praecordia, did I just hear you say you're Betrothed?"

Regina jumped, whipping about to face the door where Alice stood at the head of a small cluster of people that included Dafydd, Papa Richard, Lottie, and Alice's mother Helen, her face as dark as a thundercloud.

"Oh," Regina said in a small voice. "Um. Surprise?"

Alice's eyes narrowed, and she growled before turning to Dafydd and smacking him upside the head.

"Ow!" he protested.  
"You've gone and Betrothed yourselves?!" Alice screeched. "When? Does Tarrant know?"  
"He knows!" Dafydd defended himself. "He's not happy about it!"  
"Good," Alice harrumphed.  
"Mama, can we focus, please?" Regina asked. "I'm making rather a mess of explaining all of this to Richard, could you-?"  
"He'll understand as much as he needs to in a tick or three," Alice replied, unconcerned, as she swept past them into the library. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

Shrugging, Regina nodded. She glanced down at her left hand, then gently removed her engagement ring and her sapphires, setting them down on a side table.

"They are beautiful," she said with an apologetic smile to Richard. "But I imagine you'll want the chance to return them."  
"Come now, dearest. Time to make your goodbyes," Alice urged. "Your father's waiting."

Regina crossed to her foster father, hugging him tightly as she blinked back tears.

"There there, my Sheba," Papa Richard soothed her. "No tears, now. You and I will see each other very soon."  
Regina nodded. "I love you, very much," she smiled tremulously, before turning to Lottie. "You must promise to visit me sometime," she informed her cousin, before grinning. "I think my cousin Lily would like you very much. Ooh, and you and my friend Mary would get on like a house on fire."  
"Now there's a terrifying thought," Dafydd muttered.  
"Hush, you," Regina chided him. "It is a marvelous idea, and you know it."  
"Perhaps not till after we boot Jack out, the slurvish urpal scrum," Alice mused.  
"I should love to see Wonderland for myself," Lottie grinned. "And you must come back to this side to visit."  
"When I can," Regina promised.

Alice crossed to the fireplace, grabbing a rolling stepladder to reach the mantle. Once she'd scrambled atop the fireplace, she pressed a hand to the mirror, and to the amazement of the Abovegrounders the surface of the glass began to ripple.

"Until our next meeting," Alice nodded, before smiling and stepping through the glass.  
"C'mon, cariad," Dafydd said, taking Regina's hand and helping her up the ladder.

Regina turned to look at her loved ones again, and her smile was the mirror image of her mother's.

"Fairfarren, all," she said before she and Dafydd vanished.

* * *

Tarrant hummed to himself quietly as he lounged on the chaise in his study in the High House of Hatsfield, a mug of tea by his elbow and his little boy napping on his chest. He was about as peaceful as he could be, with his wife and daughter absent.

He'd had a very rough time of it, these past four days. Alice's absence was all too reminiscent of those terrible Lost Years. It was far too quiet without her, and in the silence and the gaping hole left behind, there was far too much room for the Madness to roam, to worry and rage and eat up so very much time.

 _Alone… so very cold and alone…_

Tarrant clung to his son like a lifeline. He could not, must not lose himself to the Blackness of his very worst Madness, because there was Brax to think of. Brax, who must be fed and washed and looked after, and with Alice and Regina gone, Tarrant must be the one to do it. This was good; Tarrant was a good caretaker.

But oh, how he wished his girls would return to him soon…

A soft rippling whoosh caught his attention, and Tarrant craned his neck just in time to watch his dear ones appear through the glass. He sighed in relief as the air lightened, as warmth and color returned to the world. Safe and sound, and home again.

He looked up as his precious wee Princess sank to her knees beside him. He opened his free arm to her, and she smiled tremulously as she laid her head on his shoulder, happily surrendering to his one-armed embrace as her hand reached up to cup around her brother's downy head. Smiling, Tarrant pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead, nodding his thanks to Dafydd before locking eyes with His Alice.

"Welcome home," he whispered.

* * *

 **Additional Author's Note** : And then they defeated Jack, and everything was wonderful forever, the end. Lottie, Helen and Papa Richard came to visit Underland all the time. Papa Richard was buried in Crims with full honors, and Alice set up trade agreements between Below and Above that eventually created the environment we see in the SyFy _Alice_ miniseries.

If I had turned this into a fully fleshed out story, this is not exactly the sequence of events I would have written. Everything would have been much harder, and rather more drawn out [Dafydd must have adequate brooding time, it's in his contract]. But there was no way I was down with writing a 50-page abomination, so I went with the truncated version. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I do hope you enjoyed!


	3. Bundle of Joy

**Author's Note** : Other than Niall's and Jack's demises, I don't think there is a single event in the entire TWC saga that underwent more edits and rewrites than the revelation of Regina's pregnancy. For the life of me, for years I could not find a version of the revelation that worked in exactly the way I needed it to. Here are two old versions of the reveal. They're stitched together from the orphaned scraps of quite a few old drafts of Books Three and Four, so if you feel like you're missing connective tissue, that's probably because you are.

And yes, I basically did recycle the same conversation between Noble, Alice and Tarrant in every iteration of this scene that has ever existed, including the version that made it into the final product.

 **Warning** : Warning for drive-by mentions of sex-related injuries, and implied sexual abuse and non-con. If you're reading this, then you know what Jack and Gigi's marriage was like and you know what to expect.

* * *

It was a lovely morning, the Doctor decided as he sat down to breakfast. The sun was shining, there was an outdoor supper planned, and he probably had enough time to pop out in search of snapdragon skulls.

"How's about a hike, Noble?" the Doctor asked as his companion yawned and plopped down at the table.  
"Eurgh," she eloquently replied, rolling her eyes.  
"How about a trip to Tearmunn?"

Noble yelped in alarm and jumped, twisting about in her chair to look at the intruder. The Doctor glanced up over the rim of his teacup, licking his lips.

"Allo again," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You haven't come to kill me, have you? Coz I gotta be honest with you, I'm not too keen on that-"  
"I'll only kill you if you don't cooperate," the young interloper said, casually leaning against the doorframe.  
"We'll cooperate," Noble said quickly, "gently" nudging the Doctor beneath the table. "We'll be very cooperative, won't we? We'll be the epitome of cooperative! This doesn't have anything to do with rocks, does it?" she asked suddenly, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.  
"Uh… no," the Intruder blinked.  
Noble beamed. "Then yes! We'll be very cooperative!"  
"Tearmunn, you said," the Doctor broke in, steepling his fingers. "What's in Tearmunn?"  
"Not what. Who," the Interloper said, pushing off the doorjamb. "The Queen."  
"Ah. Yes, I was aware she'd gone home. Wasn't I?" the Doctor asked Noble, wrinkling his nose as he scratched the back of his head.  
Noble rolled her eyes. "Yes, we knew she'd left," she told the Interloper drolly. "Is she alright?"  
The Intruder gave her a Look. "If she was, we wouldn't need you, now would we?"  
The Doctor inclined his head, acknowledging the point. "What's the matter?"  
"I don't know," the Interloper said. "I was only sent to fetch."  
"Right," the Doctor muttered, getting to his feet. "Noble, I need my bag. Basic supplies for… everything, I guess." Pursing his lips, the Doctor turned to face his visitor. "Will I have access to any medical supplies?"  
The young man nodded. "We can get our hands on anything you need. There are horses waiting for you in the courtyard. We'll have eyes on you as you travel."  
"I'll have to tell the King where I'm going," the Doctor warned.  
The Interloper sighed impatiently. "Tell him the Queen sent for you. Say whatever you need to, but get your scut to Tearmunn by noon."

The Doctor nodded, reaching for his overcoat as Noble bustled out, clutching the Doctor's bag, her own bag of supplies, and a satchel for their personal effects.

"Alright then?" she asked.  
The Doctor nodded, leading her to the door. "You go to the horses," he said. "I'll speak to the King and meet you down there."

As he walked towards the throne room, the Doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose in concern. What could be wrong with the Queen? She had seemed much healthier this past week, but he was well aware that her Tea addiction had been profound and sustained. Had she been hit with a delayed, secondary relapse? If Regina suffered any more because of Tea— or Fates forbid, if she died— the Doctor couldn't even comprehend all the ways he would be punished by those who loved her.

Pushing back his anxiety for the moment, the Doctor walked into the throne room, ignoring the clusters of nobles and petitioners and striding towards the King.

"Ah, Doctor," Jack drawled, motioning him closer. "What can I do for you?"  
"I received a message from the Queen, your Majesty," the Doctor replied. "She's not been feeling well lately, she asked me to come to Tearmunn to attend her."  
"Of course," Jack nodded. "Go to the Queen immediately. See to her health and comfort. Spare no expense."

He motioned to one of his guards, who unlocked a chest half-hidden in the alcove behind Jack's throne. He withdrew a bag of what the Doctor assumed to be bartering supplies, which he accepted gratefully. He knew that his visitor had said that he could get his hands on anything the Doctor needed, but it never hurt to have a backup plan.

"Duff will accompany you," Jack continued, nodding at the man to step forward.

The Doctor tucked his chin towards his chest as his eyebrows reached for his hairline. Duff was an enormous man; he might be taller than the Queen's ex-Champion, and his muscles even larger. What exactly was Duff's purpose on this expedition— to protect Noble and the Doctor, or to keep them in line?

"Thank you, your Majesty, but I really don't think-"  
"Duff will transport you safely to Tearmunn," Jack interrupted. "And he will send me reports on my Queen's welfare."

The Doctor shut his mouth, curbing a sigh of impatience. Fine, so Jack wanted to be kept informed of Regina's health. That was only natural; she was his wife, after all. The Doctor wasn't going to argue, if this meant he got to leave. He had bigger problems right now than Jack's lapdog.

As soon as Jack dismissed him, the Doctor took off, letting Duff scamper after him. He really hoped the Interloper and his friends wouldn't hold the addition to the party against him; he had enough pressure on him as it was.

He walked outside, to find that there was indeed a horse waiting for him. He swung himself into his saddle, ignoring Noble's very expressive eyebrow as Duff headed off to the stable. Only when he was out of earshot did the Doctor look over at his companion.

"Well. This'll be fun."  
Noble snorted. "Apparently we have to go back over the definition of 'fun'."  
"Oh, c'mon. Isn't this better than going out to hunt for snapdragon skulls?" the Doctor grinned.  
"Hmm. Go treat a Queen who doesn't trust us any further than she can throw us, while being spied on by His High-and-Mightiness and the jackalope who keeps breaking into our suite, or hunt rocks. I think I actually miss the rocks," Noble said drily.  
"I knew you'd come around to 'em eventually!" the Doctor crowed.

Noble rolled her eyes, but before she could formulate a response, Duff returned from the stables astride a simply ludicrously large Chicken. Apparently oblivious to how ridiculous he looked, Duff looked down on the Doctor and Noble.

"Shall we depart?" he rumbled.  
"What in the name of blessed Underland is Jack even doing with enormous Chickens?!" Noble burst out.  
"Feather beds," Duff said succinctly, as if it should have been perfectly obvious.

Before Noble had time to formulate a good comeback, Duff had spurred his Chicken on, and they were en route to Tearmunn. Noble grumbled as she spurred her Horse on after him; between Duff and the Doctor, it was a miracle she wasn't about to explode from her suppressed sarcastic one-liners.

Noble suspected their Interloper might have had something to do with their ease of travel. Normally, the Tulgey Wood surrounding the Hightopp homelands was virtually impassable. The forest answered to the Hightopp laird, and everyone knew that Tarrant Hightopp wasn't feeling particularly generous towards anyone from Crims at the moment. Had Tarrant sent the Interloper to guide them through the woods, so they could come to Regina's aid more quickly?

As soon as they'd arrived at the outskirts of Hatsfield, the Interloper walked up to them as though he'd been there all along. Fates, supposedly he had; he had promised there would be eyes on them as they traveled.

"Took you long enough," he said drily.  
"You!" Duff exclaimed, his hand flying to the scimitar at his waist. "You're one of the Queen's traitors!"  
"I am a member of the Fearail," the Interloper replied, his voice cold with warning. "And you're on my land now, Albion. I have every right to be here, but you're here by our pleasure. If you start any trouble, I'll be glad to send you to Laird Hightopp's judgment."

Having successfully shut Duff up, the Fearail turned his attention to Noble and the Doctor.

"The Queen is in the High House," he informed them. "I'll bring you to her."  
"Excellent," the Doctor nodded, swinging off his Horse. "Duff, you can handle the bags and the Animals, can't you? Excellent. Lead on, then."

Leaving Duff to struggle with the heavy bags of equipment, the Doctor bounced after the Fearail. Noble followed in his wake after unfastening her bag from the saddle; she had no desire for Duff to get his mitts all over her medical supplies. Fortunately, she remembered the way from their last visit to the High House, so it didn't bother her when she had to make her own way through the House until she caught up with the Doctor and the Fearail.

The Fearail knocked and opened a door which Noble recognized as being Regina's, bending in a shallow bow. "I've brought the Doctor, Gigi."

Noble raised an eyebrow in surprise. Gigi was Regina's private nickname; none but family and her personal guard, the Deuces, had leave to use it. Was this Interloper one of Regina's erstwhile Deuces, then? Noble couldn't be sure; she'd never bothered to memorize all their faces. Really, the only important one in her mind had been Dafydd, their Ace. Still, it would be rather sweet if Regina's guards were still caring for her, exile be damned.

"Oh, good," came the voice of the Sapphire King. "Bring them in, Rhys."

The Interloper— Rhys— waved Noble and the Doctor forward. Exchanging a glance, they crossed the threshold, wondering what awaited them.

Regina sat before the tea table, fully dressed and apparently fine. No spots, no coughs, no skin turning colors. True, she seemed a touch melancholy, but after all that wasn't so very unusual, or even unexpected.

"Well, at first glance you seem alright, but let's get a closer look, shall we?" the Doctor said, stepping forward.  
"There's no need, Doctor," Regina said calmly, keeping her attention focused on preparing her tea. "I'm perfectly aware of what's wrong with me. That's not why we brought you here."  
Noble frowned. "I don't understand."  
Regina stood, regarding the pair of them before addressing them as one entity. "I'm pregnant, Doctor," she revealed, her voice only the tiniest bit unsteady. "I need you to determine how far along I am, and then I'm sending you back to tell Jack that it's your professional opinion that I need to stay here for the duration of my pregnancy and labor."

For a moment, the Doctor was struck absolutely speechless. He stood motionless, jaw gaping, eyes blank. Noble was no less stunned, though her expression was tempered with incredulity and outrage. Finally, they broke through their shock, moving forward and speaking as one.

"First things first, let me look at your eyes-"  
"Sit down, I need to see your feet-"

They broke off, glaring at each other.

"Oi! Which one of us is the Doctor? And I'm not just _any_ doctor, I get a big ol' _the_ in front of my Doctor!"  
"And which one of us is the midwife?" Noble shot back.

The Doctor sputtered while Noble smirked in triumph. Grumbling, he allowed that his companion had a very good point, and he shuffled back to give Noble room to kneel at Regina's feet.

After a quick but thorough examination, Noble turned to look at Tarrant, subtly inclining her head towards the door, where they could speak without being overheard or observed. While the Doctor stepped forward to give Regina a more thorough pregnancy check-up, Noble and Tarrant withdrew for a quiet conference.

"May I be blunt, your Majesty?" Noble asked.  
"I'd rather you be sharp," Tarrant replied. "You're worried?"  
"Regina's a small girl," Noble pointed out. "And her… The baby's father, he's a large man."  
"Jack's not so very…"

Tarrant's sentence died half-uttered as the implications of Noble's observation sunk in. He closed his mouth, swallowing in a vain attempt to wet his throat.

"I see," he murmured. "Do you think she'll be in danger carrying the babe?"  
"Carrying him, no," Noble shook her head. "It'll be a hard pregnancy, this being her first and all, but it won't be dangerous until she's in labor. If the baby grows too big…"  
"Is there anything you can do?" Tarrant asked fearfully.  
"I can try," Noble said. "The best thing to do would be to have Regina give birth while he's still fairly young. Do you have a midwife in your clan?"  
"Dafydd's mother, Gwynyth," Tarrant nodded. "I'll send for her immediately."  
"Good," Noble agreed. "I'll stay as well, while the Doctor goes back and deals with the King. We'll do what we can for Regina to make this as easy as possible," she promised the anxious father.

Noble jumped in surprise as the door behind her opened, and a young boy's head popped through. As it turned out, the boy had merely been employed as a convenient mode of transportation for the Lady Knight Mallymkun, who agilely leapt off the child's head onto Tarrant's arm. She scurried her way up his arm, using his ear to climb onto the brim of Tarrant's Hat, where she proceeded to fall asleep.

"Excuse me, Noble, there's something I must see to," Tarrant said, rushing out the door.

Noble frowned, puzzled. Well, that was curious… Shrugging, she let it go. The Hightopp's affairs were none of her concern; her business was to care for the young Queen and the unborn Prince. And she'd best get started, before the Doctor doctored Regina right out of her wits…

* * *

Or Perhaps it Might Have Happened Like This…

* * *

Regina held a small looking glass in her hand, observing herself critically. She made a moue of displeasure; Clover was talented with cosmetics, but they hadn't been able to mask everything this time. Regina's lips were puffy and tender, a dark love bite bruised the base of her throat, and she had fresh bruises safely hidden beneath her clothing.

Jack had returned home two days ago. Despite her best intentions, she and Dafydd had gotten distracted, and she had just barely made it back to the castle before him. Regina had organized a Court supper to welcome Jack home. The Court suppers, enormous and noisy as they were, were still better than a private meal; Jack and Regina had to sit at the high table together, but they weren't expected to converse.

Jack had been in a foul mood due to his failure to catch a JubJub bird. Regina wasn't sure why he was so put out, but she'd been very careful not to ruffle his feathers or irritate him. He had seemed pleased enough that she had ordered a ball for the next evening, at least. It had been a lovely ball, if she said so herself; the dancing and merriment had lasted far into the night. Regina had kept an eye out for little Daisy, and smiled when she saw the excited little girl bouncing on the edge of the dance floor with one of her sisters. For that moment alone, the ball had been worth it.

And then Jack and Regina had retired for the evening. He had come to her bed again, and he hadn't been pleased when she tried to plead illness. In the end, she had given in; she knew Alice would be disappointed in her, but really, it was easier to let him have his way. She ended up with fewer bruises that way, which was worth her disappointment in herself for once again failing to stand up for herself.

But enough, she commanded herself. Her parents would be here soon, and she must be in a good enough mood when their carriage arrived to prevent them from guessing anything was wrong.

Tarrant's weekly Tea Parties were a welcomed treat, and a lovely reprieve from the daily pressures of ruling. Since Regina had left home to rule her own queendom, the Tea Party had also become important family time for the Blue Royals; a way to stay connected in their busy lives. Regina's attendance of the weekly teas has tapered off into nonexistence after her Binding, and had resumed only recently, now that she was sane enough to enjoy such things. And given the strain of her marriage and the continuing battle of wills with her husband over the rulership of Crims… Aye, Regina was more than glad to take any opportunity for escape.

Though the Tea Parties were traditionally held in Berserka or Hatsfield, in deference to Regina's delicate condition her family had undertaken the trek to Isla Affalin. This they did at Tarrant's insistence, as he wouldn't hear of entrusting his precious wee boy's safety to even the most well-sprung of carriages. Regina had attempted to object to this coddling, but for once Jack and Tarrant had been in absolute agreement that hours of travel in a bumpy carriage was forbidden. Alice drove the final nail in the coffin when she informed her daughter that Tarrant had been just as overbearing each time she was pregnant, and that there would be no gainsaying him.

So here they were in Regina's larger solarium in Isla Affalin, enjoying their tea. Regina was ensconced in a chaise longue and propped up by pillows while her rapscallion Kitten pranced all over her legs and played with Abraxas. Aderyn sat on a delicate chair beside her, as ever keeping faithful watch, much to Alice and Tarrant's satisfaction.

"Have you seen the Doctor?" Tarrant asked.  
"Aye, Da," Regina nodded. "Jack sent for him when I told him I was expecting."

Regina swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she remembered Jack's reaction to that particular news, and the mania beforehand. Jack's tight, coiled agitation hadn't eased in the three days since that confrontation. She still had no idea whether he'd found Dafydd and exacted revenge for whatever imagined ills Dafydd had inflicted on Jack; she didn't know whether Jack would then turn around and lash out at her. If she wasn't safe in her own palace, then for the sake of her son shouldn't she leave? Find sanctuary with her parents for the duration of her pregnancy, for the safety of her child?

Tarrant's eyebrows rose in clear expectation, and though Alice rolled her eyes at him there was something in the set of her shoulders that suggested a matching anticipation.

Really, she should have known she couldn't avoid their scrutiny. Granted, she would rather be under their eye than Jack's right now.

"He expects me to have a short pregnancy," she reported. "Perhaps three or four months, no more than six. He says it's a boy," she added, smiling as she laid a hand on her stomach.  
Scraps snorted in irritation. "I already _told_ you that, Mistress!"  
"So you did, little darling," Regina smiled, stroking the Kitten. "The Doctor also said he'll favor his papa in looks," Regina said, forcibly keeping the smile on her face. "A little golden prince."

Scraps scoffed again, but hid his face in Regina's stomach before she could notice.

"I still can't quite believe you're going to make us grandparents," Alice declared. "Wasn't it only yesterday you were bouncing on your da's lap, trying to steal his Hat?"  
"No no, Teacup, that was a week ago," Tarrant replied absently.

Regina grinned faintly, for that was in fact the truth, even if her parents meant it metaphorically.

"My mistake," Alice replied, with a speaking Look at her daughter. "Come, my dear, let's take a turn around the solarium. I want to hear all about your plans for the nursery."

Tarrant hardly seemed to notice as Alice and Regina stood; he stared at the three-tiered trays of scones as though they held all the answers in the world. Regina bit her lip to hold back her words until she and Alice were out of earshot.

"Mama, is Da alright? Truly?" she asked anxiously.  
"Oh, my dear. He will be," Alice sighed, threading her arm through her daughter's and patting Regina's hand. "Men are so silly about these things. It doesn't matter what world they hail from, they're all hopeless when it comes to matters of childbirth. The poor dears," she smiled indulgently. "And you are his only daughter. His precious wee delicate besom," she continued in a frankly terrible imitation of Tarrant's Outlandish brogue. "You're his baby still, and always shall be. He seems frankly incapable of conceiving that you could be ready for this."  
"I don't think I _am_ ready," Regina confessed. "My childhood was… well. Lady Ascot wasn't cruel. But she didn't exactly exude maternal affection," she said, skirting around memories of long, lonely years of criticism and derision (apparently not well enough, judging by the tightening of Alice's jaw and the dark cloud of guilt in her eyes). "And I love you very much, Mama," she hastened to add, "but I really haven't spent very much time with you, have I? I don't have much idea at all how to be someone's mother, and I'm _so_ afraid of disappointing my little prince. His father is already… What if I'm a failure too?"  
"Oh my sweet darling," Alice cooed, arresting their progress and stroking Regina's cheek. "Do you think you're the first woman to entertain such fears? I'll wager every expectant mother in the histories of both worlds has had the same thoughts. The fear is normal, darling. You're going to be bringing a whole new human being into the world, that's daunting. But I have no doubts whatsoever that you will be a wonderful mother. Your son will be a very lucky little boy."

At that, Regina could no longer hold in her tears. She threw her arms around her mathair, burying her face in Alice's shoulder as she let it all out.

"There there, sweetheart," Alice soothed her. "Everything will be just fine. You'll see."

When they returned to the Tea Table, they found Tarrant deep in quiet conversation with Noble.

"Noble? What are you doing here?" Regina frowned, distrust and guardedness stiffening her spine and closing off her face. "I thought you and the Doctor left with Lily."  
"He asked me to stay behind and keep an eye on you," Noble replied calmly.

Regina paused for a moment, evaluating that. But, as much as she distrusted the Doctor, she knew she needed someone to watch over her unborn child. And Fates knew she couldn't turn to Gwynyth's expertise, not for Jack's son.

"Very well then," she relented. "You may as well examine me now, before my athair bursts from impatience."  
Noble nodded, kneeling before the chaise longue and withdrawing a small bottle of baby's breath lotion. "Let's have a look at your feet, then."

Deftly, Noble removed Regina's dainty slippers and, placing Regina's feet into her lap, began to gently rub and massage the lotion into her skin. She nodded knowingly as Regina hissed at sore spots, patiently digging into the muscle fibers to ease the pain. While she worked, she talked, asking Regina how bad the nausea had been, what colors she saw when she closed her eyes, when she'd last eaten squimberries.

"Come, my beamish boy," Tarrant said, standing and offering an arm to Alice. "Let's take a turn of our own and leave them to it."

Alice conceded with good grace, leaving Abraxas with his sister and docilely submitting to once again being steered toward the far side of the solarium.

"Tarrant, what's the matter?" she finally asked, concerned by her husband's grim face.  
"Noble came to ask my advice," Tarrant said, his voice low. "On a matter of some delicacy."  
"Oh?" Alice asked, intrigued.  
"She's concerned for the baby's safety during her pregnancy, and the delivery," Tarrant said darkly.  
Alice halted, feeling her stomach clench in fear. "Why?"

She drew a deep, slow breath, fear giving way to determination. She straightened, squaring her shoulders to meet the threat head-on, as a Champion must.

"Yes, she is in danger. From Jack, as well as the baby," she nodded. "And we will protect her. We're never losing our daughter again, Tarrant. Not to delivery, and not to Jack's wrath if he finds out. We can bring her to Berserka, or to Hatsfield. I'm sure we can convince Jack that the baby needs the Music of the Hightopps to develop properly."  
"And after the child is born?" Tarrant asked. "We can't hide him forever."  
"No. But surely there's some sort of precedent in the laws for this," Alice said thoughtfully. "If not, I'll offer her political asylum. One way or another, we'll keep our daughter and grandson safe, Tarrant. I swear it."  
"I believe you, my Alice," Tarrant smiled faintly.


	4. Bye Bye Birdie

**Author's Note** : Have you had enough of watching Jack get his comeuppance? No? Oh good. Neither have I. Here are two more ways it all might have gone down.

 **Warning** : There are a couple of instances of onscreen character deaths. There aren't any prolonged graphic descriptions, but I'm throwing up a warning anyways.

* * *

Version One: At Jack's Trial in Berserka

* * *

"As the question here is whether the Suitors' Joust was valid, we shall settle this matter the same way it began," Alice declared. "The King of Hearts will engage the Queen's Champion-"  
"He's not her-" Jack interjected.  
"-in single combat," Alice continued, pointedly raising her voice over Jack's. "Shall we say first to disarm is the winner?"  
"That's hardly fair-" Jack scowled.  
"You'd rather make it first blood?" Alice interrupted cooly.

Jack's mouth snapped shut, and his gaze dropped from glowering anger to a sulky pout. With a look that resembled a gloat, Alice nodded in recognition of his acquiescence.

"The King of Hearts shall choose the mode of combat," she announced.

It was a magnanimous gesture on the High Queen's part. Had the decision been left to Dafydd, the Outlander would have chosen his claymore, and the fight would be stillborn. This way, Jack had at least a sporting chance. Regina wasn't entirely certain how she felt about that.

"Unarmed combat," Jack decided, clenching and unclenching his fists. "First to three falls."

Alice and Tarrant exchanged silent glances. Regina tried not to fidget in her seat, but it was very difficult to relax. How could she even pretend to ignore that this was the most important moment of her life?

"Done," Alice proclaimed. "We shall adjourn to the training arena and settle this matter forthwith."

Regina exhaled shakily, feeling lightheaded as she stood. She stood silently, watching Alice's Suits escort Jack and Dafydd outside. Dafydd, Underland bless him, seemed entirely unconcerned with the turn of events; he appeared more amused than anything. Which Regina supposed was fair; it wasn't as though it were any great mystery who would win this rematch. He wasn't drugged this time around; the conclusion was foregone.

Biting her lip to restrain a sigh, Regina took Brax from Tarrant, nibbling at her sweet boy's neck while she walked towards the arena with the other assembled royals. Despite her anxiety, she couldn't help but smile; it wouldn't be long before she held her own son in her arms. What would he be like, this son of hers and Dafydd's? Would he be a dreamer like his mam, or as grounded as his da? Which side of the family would he favor in looks? Would he be a bouncing ball of energy like Brax, or would he be more placid?

Well, she would find out soon enough. Better to focus on the matter at hand— after all, she'd prefer to give birth to a Prince, not an exile's bastard. She bit her lip again, her eyes unfocusing as she daydreamed. There was no reason whatsoever to suspect that Dafydd wouldn't win… though of course she'd thought that last time too, with disastrous results. But he wasn't drugged, Regina reminded herself. He was sober, and calm, and utterly confident in himself. Her Dafydd was one of the greatest fighters in all of Underland; it was unthinkable that he should lose again.

And when he'd won, it would all be over. Alice would declare Regina and Jack's marriage invalid, and Jack would formally be stripped of all rights to the throne. She would be free. Fates, she and Dafydd could be married by sundown. Tonight could be her wedding night… Her cheeks flamed with sudden modesty, and she had to laugh at herself. She was already carrying Dafydd's son; it was a little late to be embarrassed.

Her attention was returned to the real world by her furiously wriggling brother. "Daffy! Daffy!" he cheered, clapping and squirming impatiently. Regina smiled, settling Abraxas on her lap as she sat. What would it be like, she wondered, when she had both Brax and Andras crawling all over her?

She swallowed hard as the combatants entered the arena. Each had removed his formal court clothing, and now wore nothing but standard cotton and leather training breeches. Regina heard an appreciative murmur ripple through the women, and even some of the men. She carefully avoided looking at Jack, unwilling to be reminded of nights in his bed; instead, she focused her attention on her Beloved. Fates save her, but he was a sinfully handsome man…

She bit her lip, her gaze catching on the jagged, ugly scar on his left shoulder; all the evidence that remained of the Heartbreak she had caused. Fates, they'd walked such a very long road to get to this point, and they'd each hurt the other so profoundly. Above, she'd never have believed that love could hurt so very much. But it was nearly over, she tried to remind herself. Dafydd would defeat Jack, and then their life together could properly start, and with any luck they would never face such insurmountable difficulties ever again.

On Alice's command, Jack and Dafydd squared off, beginning their fight. Jack danced from side to side, like an agitated cobra; Dafydd countered him lazily, confident as a lion.

It always surprised Regina, how fast Dafydd could be. He was a big, strongly built man; his physique leant itself to blunt, powerful attacks. And yet, when the occasion demanded it, Dafydd could dance and dart about like a fish. And so he did now. He'd had plenty of time in the past months to study Jack's fighting technique. And he used it to his advantage now, turning all of Jack's strategies against him. The last time they'd met in combat, Jack had relied heavily on evasion, moving more quickly than Dafydd could strike. Today, Dafydd played with Jack, twisting away and forcing Jack onto the defensive. After a particularly quick evasion, Dafydd stuck his leg out; Jack, still following the momentum of his punch, tripped and fell to the ground. Regina had to work hard to suppress a giggle when she saw Dafydd's amused smirk; she was glad he was enjoying his retribution.

It wasn't nearly as amusing a moment later, when Jack landed a punch to Dafydd's kidney that drove the larger man to his knees. Regina felt her heart stop, and she swore she felt Andras kicking in irritation and concern for his da. Brax squawked in sympathy, though Regina had to wonder if that was because she'd accidentally squeezed him in alarm.

Dafydd staggered to his feet, his face drawn with pain and set with determination. Regina shivered at the look in her lover's eyes; uh-oh. He'd been playing with his prey before, but playtime was clearly over. Regina fancied she could hear the drums beginning to pound in Dafydd's blood. As much as she hated and feared Jack, she wouldn't wish a battle-mad Dafydd on anyone. More importantly, Regina didn't want Jack's death heaped onto Dafydd's already-burdened conscience.

Regina sat on the edge of her seat as the fight recommenced, hardly daring to breathe. Dafydd wasn't pulling any punches; he was trying to knock Jack unconscious, to end this match and any question of his worthiness for Regina's hand. As for Jack, he was making ever bolder feints, desperately trying to provoke Dafydd to strike in anger— a reaction which Jack could then exploit to gain the upper hand. Exactly how he thought he could further agitate a Mad man was beyond Regina's comprehension.

Regina flinched as Dafydd flipped Jack over his shoulder; she swore she could feel the impact in her body as Jack hit the ground. In her lap, Brax giggled, clapping his hands in delight.

"Jack fall down go boom!" he crowed, squirming happily.

While she couldn't fault her brother's powers of observation, she couldn't help but worry a little about the glee he seemed to take from the fact. Wasn't he rather young to be exhibiting such bloodthirst?

Jack struggled back to his feet, and the anger in his eyes chilled Regina to the bone. He knew exactly what he stood to lose— his last link to the crown, his place in Underland, the power he'd spent nearly nine months amassing. He was furious, and in his fury he attacked.

Jack's anger was impressive, but he'd never stood a chance against a warrior of Dafydd's caliber. In just a few blows, Jack was down for the third and final time, spread-eagled and knocked unconscious by a perfectly aimed blow to the temple. Dafydd stood triumphantly over his foe, barely even breathing hard, bowing to Alice as the High Queen declared him the victor.

Regina stared, not entirely certain she could trust the evidence of her own eyes. It was over. It was over? Could she be dreaming?

If it was a dream, she prayed she never woke.

Regina stood shakily, passing Brax to Tarrant in a daze. Stunned, she walked onto the pitch on shaky legs. Absently, she thought it curious that the world had gone so silent, but then again perhaps that fit. She could see nothing but Dafydd. That should have alarmed her, that everyone else had vanished, but honestly she was so wrapped up in him that she couldn't bring herself to care.

He met her gaze, and she exhaled shakily in relief when she saw that her Beloved's eyes weren't clouded over in Madness. With a soft whimper, she placed her trembling hands on his face. And then they were falling— had she half-fainted, or had his knees buckled? A puff of dust billowed up around them, dirtying her dress, but she didn't care; she had always hated white, anyways…

"You're hurt," she murmured, wiping away the blood at the corner of his mouth as her eyes raked over the darkening bruise ringing his left eye.  
"I'm fine," he countered, stroking her hair. "Marry me."  
She smiled tremulously, blinking back tears. "Right now? With you bleeding and me in white?"  
"And why not?"

Regina jumped, blinking rapidly; she would never get used to Zhithene's habit of popping up out of nowhere.

"I see no reason to wait, do you?" the tiny Keeper asked from her perch on Dafydd's shoulder. "That boy of yours isn't getting any younger, and a Queen needs a King, don't you think?"

Regina blinked, gaping like a fish. She glanced up at Dafydd, trying to find her words… And the hopeful, utterly lovestruck look in his eyes robbed her of all speech. Mutely, she nodded, helpless to prevent the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes. And then she was drowning in Dafydd's dazzling, heartbreaking smile; clinging to him as he kissed her senseless.

"Well," Zhithene announced. "If we're going to marry you and crown Dafydd, we'd best get to Crims, don' t you think?"  
"Oh my," Regina said shakily. "How on earth will we get a wedding organized before sundown?"  
"I wouldn't worry about that, Sugar Cube," Tarrant lisped tremulously. "I think you'll find that everything has long since been prepared."

* * *

They were married in Regina's private garden at twilight. The only witnesses were the other Royal families, and the groom's family. On Tarrant's insistence, Dafydd had been dressed as befit a prince of the Hightopps, in kilt, waistcoat and a tailcoat made of sapphire velvet. Regina was a dream in the dress her father had made for her. Apart from the ring Dafydd had given her, she was unadorned but for a crown of fragrant purple irises. Zhithene officiated the ceremony; Tarrant bound the bride and groom's hands with a golden ribbon.

"You are now Bound and Bonded," Zhithene announced. "May Underland Bless your union."

Regina beamed, her smile lighting up her entire face as she launched herself at her husband. Dafydd grinned, catching her easily as their lips met. The guests applauded and cheered; at least, Dafydd thought they might have. He was admittedly rather distracted…

From his perch on a low-hanging tree branch, Scraps made a face. "Eww, they're kissing again," he complained.  
Buttons, perched above him, paused in her bath long enough to roll her eyes. "They're supposed to kiss, dumdum, they just got married," she said snootily.  
"It's gross!" Scraps insisted, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

The Kittens ceased their bickering suddenly, sitting up and putting on their best behavior as the Cheshire Cat appeared in the gathering in a cloud of blue mist.

"Witzend!" Regina exclaimed, rushing forward and dragging Dafydd behind her.

Witzend lunged for Regina, loudly purring as she rubbed her face in Regina's neck. Regina closed her eyes, smiling to herself as she rubbed Witzend's favorite spot at the base of her skull.

"I've come to give you a blessing and a boon," the Cheshire announced. "What would you ask of Underland?"  
Dafydd shook his head. "I have everything I need," he said, a possessive arm around his wife's waist.  
"What about you, Regina?" Witzend asked.

Regina tilted her head, her eyes unfocusing. For a long moment she was silent, thinking as she stroked Witzend's coat. Then she spoke, nodding to herself in approval.

"I would ask Time to be kind," she said. "Lingering on joys and hurrying past sorrows."  
Witzend's mouth curled up in a grin. "I'll speak to him," she promised. "And now for my blessing."

The Cheshire disappeared in a cloud of smoke, reappearing a moment later across the garden, perched in a tree.

"I'm going to send you both to the Land That Time Forgot," she announced, resting her head on her paws.

Her announcement was met with confused silence. Witzend blinked, a lazy grin splitting her face.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of it!" she exclaimed, the teasing tone thick in her voice. "Why, everyone wishes they could go!"  
"Where is it?" Dafydd asked.  
"The place between places and the time between times," Witzend recited, leaping into midair and spinning lazy circles. "The place everyone chases but no one can find, until the fabric unlaces and you find it in your mind."  
"Isn't what you're offering them something of a curse?" Alice ventured. "If Time's forgotten this place, then if they go there they'll quite literally be out of Time. But Time will still be present here; who knows how much time might pass while they're gone?"

At that thought, Regina paled. She'd already lost so much Time, in Underland, with her family… Could she bear to part with more, even for the sake of spending time with her husband?

Witzend made a face, folding her forearms petulantly. "Really Alice, do you think I haven't thought of that? Time and I have already come to an agreement on this account. The details of which you are not allowed to worry about," she added, turning on Regina pointedly. "If you insist on marrying this galumphing idiot, then I insist on at least trying to keep you happy."

Witzend nodded at the happy smile that lit up her Regina's face. A life was a small price to pay to see Regina happy again; after all, she had plenty of lives to spare.

"Now, if you'd like to take your honeymoon, I suggest you be on your way," Witzend advised. "Time isn't going to wait forever, you know."

So saying, the Cheshire knocked on a knot in the trunk of the nearest tree. With a groan, a drawbridge lowered, offering a glimpse into a golden paradise.

"Run along now," she purred. "Mind that you tell some really good stories."

Dafydd stepped forward first, cautiously walking up to the tree and stepping through. Assured it was safe, he turned back to aid Regina's passage. With a flash of golden light, they disappeared, leaving the tree looking quite ordinary… as ordinary as a tree with blue bark and purple leaves could look, anyways.

"Well now," Witzend said briskly, indulging in a good, long cat stretch. "You'd all best run along. You all have things to tend to, before they get back."

* * *

Version Two: After Andras' Birth

* * *

The sound of tolling bells interrupted Jack's reverie. Ceasing his near-constant pacing, he stalked to the southern-facing window, throwing open the wooden shutters to try to get some idea of what was going on.

Everything about his captivity grated on him, but perhaps the hardest part was that he received no news in this tower. He'd been locked away and left to rot, forgotten.

Imprisoned as he was within the North Tower, the former King of Hearts was left mostly to his own devices. As per the Usurper's orders, he received no visitors; nor did he ever see another soul besides the deaf mute who'd been chosen to serve him. He was allowed no diversions but for the balcony, as his punishment was to witness all the "improvements" his whore of a wife made to his kingdom.

But, that could be turned to his advantage. Obviously Alice the Defier and her usurping daughter thought they'd rendered him impotent by imprisoning him in this Fates-forsaken tower. They underestimated him, these Uplandish outsiders. He was Jacoby Praecordia, son of Iracebeth the Red Queen, the true and rightful King of Hearts. He would not be kept from his throne. He had the blessing of the Heart of Crims; he would rule.

So Jack had played along with the farce of this imprisonment, had submitted to his sentence when it was clear the deck was stacked against him. But if Regina thought she'd rid herself of him for good, then she was a fool who deserved every bit of what he had done, and what he still planned to do.

He had been laying his plans ever since he was first shut away. First, he needed allies to help him escape the Tower. Once he'd gotten out, all he needed to do was get down to the Heart. It would recognize him as Its true Master, and would reaffirm his right to the crown. Not even High Queen Alice could naysay the decision of the Soul of Crims.

From there, he would overthrow Dafydd and Regina. He'd have the Outlander publicly beheaded while Regina watched. He'd promised her that gift, after all; he liked to keep his promises. He couldn't kill Regina without going to war with Witzend… Although, perhaps that was exactly what he should do. After all, he was irked with Alice; it would serve her right to lose her queendom. And it would give him such pleasure to reduce Dafydd's homeland once more to ash and ruin.

Then he would go to Queast. Surely, the five shariffs were miffed that they were excluded from the Suit Alliance; he could offer them alliance and protection, in exchange for support in a war. Snud would naturally ally with him; the Red Kingdoms always stuck together. Then, with Marmoreal and Witzend cut off from each other and vulnerable, he could attack and defeat them separately.

He couldn't wait to begin.

For he had made friends, you see. The mockingjays were annoying featherbrains, to be sure. But there was no beating them for use as messengers.

Jack's first move upon his imprisonment had been to befriend the mockingjays. They were easy enough to entice; with voices as irritating as theirs they were never invited to dine with other Animals, and thus they were always hungry. Some bread crusts, a few berries, and Jack had the entire flock in the palm of his hand.

His lip curled upwards as one of the irritating featherbrains landed on his window, dropping a cloth-covered bundle beside his hand. "What's with all the bells?" he asked.  
"Everyone's celebrating," the mockingjay replied, hopping in place. "The Queen's given birth to her baby Prince in Tearmunn. I got the news last night from my cousins in Witzend."  
"Is that so," Jack said, sneering at the reminder of the child he'd been conned into believing was his.  
"The whole castle's out in the streets of the city for the party," the mockingjay continued. "The cooks opened up the kitchens. There are some wonderful pies to nibble from!"  
"Did you find what I wanted?" Jack interrupted impatiently.

The mockingjay squawked in irritation, stabbing its beak toward the bundle at its feet.

"Good," Jack nodded. "When I get out of here I'll give your whole flock as many pies as you want."  
"I can go get pie now," the mockingjay replied, launching off the windowsill.

Rolling his eyes, Jack unwrapped the cloth, nodding in approval at the dull sheen of the dagger. It was small and ugly; it had probably come from the belt of some witless border guard. A graceless weapon, but it would serve his purpose.

Jack held himself still as the door was opened and the doddering old deaf mute shambled in with his noon meal. As usual, the man was accompanied by a solitary guard— and mercy of mercies, the guard was one of his Albion today. What good luck; he wouldn't be as suspicious of Jack as any of the Fearail would be.

He waited until the guard shut the door behind the servant— a precaution against Jack bolting— before he made his play. Slipping behind the mute, Jack yanked his head back, placing his dagger to the man's fleshy chin. Snarling, he marched the servant to the door, pointing to the wood in a silent demand that he issue that day's coded knock. Trembling, the servant did so; in gratitude, Jack granted him a quick and clean death, slitting his throat so deeply that the man was dead in moments.

When the door opened, Jack was ready; he threw the corpse on the Albion. When the guard staggered beneath the dead weight, Jack plunged his dagger through the Albion's eye, killing him instantly.

There was a loud crash as the bodies fell. Jack flinched, but only silence greeted the noise. Had no one heard? Jack cackled; it was almost as though Dafydd _wanted_ him to escape.

Stooping, Jack stripped the Albion of his chain mail and short sword. The getup wouldn't conceal his identity, but at least he'd have some protection if he ran into anyone. Once garbed, he took off down the stairs, gripping the sword in one hand and the bloody dagger in the other.

He moved as quickly as caution would allow. He probably didn't have longer than an hour before the guard's and mute's presences were missed; he needed to have the support of the Heart by the time their bodies were discovered.

Luckily, the castle appeared to be deserted. It seemed the mockingjay had spoken truly, and that everyone had indeed gone out into the streets to celebrate the birth of Regina's bastard. He remained cautious, but he encountered no one as he made his way down into the bowels of the castle, where the Door waited.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he slipped into the foundation chamber. Smiling coldly in anticipation, he spat on Regina's restored cornerstone before yanking open the knobless Door and boldly stepping into the darkness.

"I am here," he announced. "I have returned. I demand you give me my due, which was stolen from me and which you owe me as your Master."

There was silence for a long moment, oppressive and heavy. Then a Voice— ancient, genderless, cold, and _hungry_ — spoke, echoing through the Blackness.

 _Agreed._

Jack didn't have time to scream.

* * *

 **Additional Author's Note** : I always liked the first version of dealing with Jack. It had a nice symmetry to it, and it had the added bonus of shutting Dafydd up about how the Suitors' Joust ended. But then Jack started messing with the Darkness, and that became more important than settling this particular score in the Neverending Jack Vs. Dafydd Pissing Contest.

Likewise, I was always really pleased with the second scenario. I would have kept this version in the Story Proper, except that it became increasingly important for Regina and the Keymaster to deal with the Darkness, which meant them being there to witness Jack's demise.


	5. Reunion and Rejoining

**Author's Note** : Regina was always going to escape Jack eventually; there was no way this series wasn't going to have a happy ending. But the way she got away from him changed a few times in the five years I spent writing this monster of a saga.

This version of Regina's escape and subsequent reunion with Dafydd is pretty choppy. It's from an old draft of Book Four, and it was stitched together from three different reunion scenes I'd written over the years. That's actually the reason why I scrapped this version completely, and rewrote Gigi and Dai's reunion from scratch. Trying to smooth this chapter into something readable [if not good] was a pain in the scut.

* * *

Regina walked as fast as she could, given the uneven ground and her wobbly heels. She sighed in relief as she passed under the branches of the apple trees of her orchard; finally, she was safe. The Trees wouldn't allow any prying eyes or unwelcome advances; she could stay here as long as she wanted. And she'd done that, she vaguely remembered through the fog of non-memories; she had spent all her time after Dafydd's exile in her orchards, where Jack couldn't reach her.

She laid a hand on one of the Tree trunks, tilting her head back to look up at the branches. "You told me once that there was a passage beneath us, to someplace safe," she said. "Will you please show me where it is?"

A breeze stirred the branches, and amidst the wind she heard the Trees' soft, sighing language, twisting and dancing on the breeze until she heard whispers in her ears; the Trees agreeing to help her.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Please alert the stewards, we'll have a ball to welcome Jack home, whenever that is."

Nodding as her message was carried off on the wind, Regina turned her attention to the Trees, following the blossoms deeper into the grove. She watched, fascinated, as the ground before one of the slender trees gave way, roots twisting and redigging into the soil to create steps into the underground tunnel.

"Oh, thank you," Regina sighed, hurrying forward to enter the tunnel.

She yelped in surprise as the stairs ended not in earth, but in empty air. And then she was falling, tumbling, spinning, faster and faster and in no particular direction. She couldn't control her descent; she might crash! Or what if she fell all the way through the world, and ended up coming out the other end, where everyone walked upside-down? Or she might never stop falling; she'd just keep tumbling through air forever…

Her knees buckled as she touched ground, and she fell in a graceless heap into the dirt. She lay there, stunned and breathless, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When she thought she could stand without getting sick, she carefully sat up, examining her new surroundings.

She'd fallen at the base of an enormous tree. But the tree seemed to be indoors… No, the house had been built around the tree. And _in_ the tree, she realized as she looked up; stairs had been cut into the trunk and led to the branches, in which were nestled more rooms, all the way up to the canopy, far overhead. Standing and using the trunk for balance, Regina stared at the tree house in awe. Where was she? Why hadn't she heard of a place like this before?

"Blast the Stars, Regina!"

She gasped, staring overhead in an attempt to find the source of the voice. A figure scrambled nimbly down towards her, not using the stairs carved into the tree trunk but rather a system of ropes and pulleys like Tarzan. He clambered down like a monkey, landing gracefully before her and continuing the motion into a smooth bow.

"Rhys!" she exclaimed blankly.

Had the tunnel sent her to her Fearail? No wonder the Trees had said it was safe…

"How did you get here?" Rhys asked, straightening. "We thought you were at Isla Affalin!"  
"I fell," Regina replied, blinking back overwhelmed tears. "The Trees in my orchard told me about a tunnel-"  
"Oh," Rhys replied, grinning. "That explains it; they sent you through one of the rabbit holes. So have you run away for good?"  
"Not yet," Regina said regretfully.  
"You're sure?" Rhys asked, furrowing his brow. "We can keep you safe here. Jack will never find you."

She bit her lip wistfully, thinking. Oh, it was so tempting. She really did want to leave Jack, and the Court she so distrusted; she would love to return to Dafydd's side, to feel safe again. No one would blame her if she left, she thought. Spirit's sake, her family was pushing her to do exactly this.

"No," Regina shook her head, making her choice. "I have a plan, and it's nearly done. Once it's finished… then I'll come back to stay. Is Dafydd here?" she changed the subject, tightening her fist around the signet ring she still clutched.  
Rhys shook his head. "Out running patrol, the stubborn scut. I'll take you to his room to wait, he shouldn't be much longer."  
Regina blushed. "No, I can wait down here-"  
"As if he won't take you straight to his room when he gets here," Rhys cut her off, raising his eyebrows knowingly. "We all know you two'll need _reunion_ time."  
"Rhys!" Regina gasped, scandalized, feeling the blush creep all the way up to her hairline.  
Rhys snickered unrepentantly, before his face softened into a smile. "Gigi, we've all known about the two of you since you came home from the Outlands."  
Regina stared. "So long? But-"  
"You two were so oblivious. Especially him, he's no innocent," Rhys grinned. "It was obvious to everyone with eyes how you felt about each other. I have no idea what took you so long."

She blushed again, her eyes unfocusing as a shy smile crept over her face. Dafydd had loved her that long? It had been over two years since she'd been kidnapped to the Outlands. Why then, she hadn't been wrong, when they reunited on the Brae. He had loved her. But then why hadn't he declared himself immediately? They could have avoided this situation with Jack entirely; they could be married right now, sitting on the throne as King and Queen.

But there was no use in crying over spilled milk, she decided. Done was done. All they could do now was move forward.

Shaking her head to clear it, Regina let Rhys lead her up the stairs. Up and up and around and around, higher and higher, until her head was spinning. Trust Dafydd to take a room as high up as he could get!

With a merry little bow and a cheeky wink, Rhys let Regina into Dafydd's room. It was large, spanning three branches, and surprisingly sturdy; despite how high up they were, the branches weren't swaying with the breeze. Once Rhys had shut the door, Regina kicked off her heels, sighing in relief as her cramped feet flattened. She padded over to the desk, gently setting Jack's signet ring down, before she collapsed on the bed, stifling a yawn. For pity's sake, Dafydd would return soon, and she didn't want to waste a moment of their time together with sleep! Then again, she thought, leaning back, perhaps she should nap. As Rhys had said, she and Dafydd would be _reuniting_ , and that did tend to tire her… Well, just a little kip, then…

She woke to a gentle assault on her neck, and she smiled sleepily; if this was how he planned on coaxing her awake from now on, she wouldn't object.

"Am I dreaming?" he murmured against her neck.  
She giggled, stretching lazily. "How could you be? I'm the one who's sleeping."  
"Mmm. You have a point," he acknowledged. "In that case, don't wake up. Stay here with me."  
"You might have to persuade me," she said daringly, arching her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

* * *

They were molded into one another almost as close as they could be. Close enough that Dafydd could feel the instant that Regina transferred from sleep to waking; felt the change in her breath and the way her muscles shifted, as if it were his own body. He grinned, pulled her closer, pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck as she stirred, and stopped her from moving as she tried to sit up, pressing slow kisses into her neck, her shoulder.

"Oh," she breathed. "I was afraid this was just a dream."  
"Never again, cariad," he promised, sliding a possessive hand over her stomach. "You're mine forever. Both of you."  
"Oh."

He felt her tense, sensed her closing herself off from him. Felt her body temperature drop by a degree or two; felt her emotions shift from sleep and peace to unease and sorrow. A frown furrowed his brow; why wasn't she happy?

"You know," she breathed, curling in on herself and hiding her face.  
"Of course I know," he replied, pressing his hand gently against her stomach, where the precious child lay hidden. "Tarrant sent word. And we're Heart-bound. I knew."  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He frowned, hitched himself up on his elbow, and prodded her to turn over. She avoided his gaze; her eyes were dull with the hateful grey of her sorrow, misty with tears. Why was she sad?

Regina pressed her face into the pillow, willing herself to silence although she couldn't help the tears that welled up and flowed down her cheeks.

She'd been trying to avoid this emotional meltdown. She had tried to be pleased about her pregnancy. After all, a child was a wonderful blessing, and a son was a perfect bartering chip against Jack. Uplandish as he was, he would count his sons as the important children; she could use this baby to secure her influence at Court.

But as pleased as she was— and she was, truly— that didn't change the fact that she was pregnant with Jack's child. She could never be free of him, not now; he would always have this hold over her. Even if he died, this child would live to remind her of his father.

Tears slipped from her eyes as Dafydd's fingers ghosted over her still-flat abdomen. Oh, damn the Fates, she hadn't even considered the fact that she would someday have to tell Dafydd about the baby. How could she tell him? It was a slap in the face to their love, a betrayal of every vow they had ever made. How could she claim to love Dafydd when she bore Jack's child? How could Dafydd still love her if she was the mother of a child fathered by his rival? And how could she possibly ask him to stay with her, to help her raise Jack's child?

No, she couldn't retain her hold over him; she had to let him go. Even though it would kill her to send him away… But how could she do otherwise? She couldn't take Dafydd's life from him, even though her own had been ruined. And there was no sense in delaying; the longer she waited, the more this would hurt. After everything he had endured for her, he deserved nothing less than absolute honesty from her.

She froze, her breath catching painfully in her throat as she processed what he'd said to her. He knew. He knew? But then why wasn't he angry? Was he going to gloat at her misfortune, congratulate himself for escaping her clutches in the nick of time?

But no, she chided herself. Dafydd would never do that; he was too noble. But then why was he smiling, and holding her as though she was still infinitely precious to him?

Or… a terrible possibility revealed itself to her. What if, because of that nobility she so loved about him, he was doing the honorable thing and shackling himself to her anyways? Wasn't that a much more Dafyddish response, to consider himself responsible for his Queen's well-being? He'd be trapped, enslaved to a woman he couldn't have and the son of his archenemy, simply because he was too noble to walk away. Oh, that was a worse possibility than the first… She couldn't let him do that to himself.

He looked her over, frowning. "Why are you crying, cariad?"  
She crumpled into a smaller ball as her shoulders shook with sobs. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I didn't mean for this to happen, and if you never want to see me again I understand-"

Dafydd blinked in profound confusion. Alright, clearly one of the two of them had gone Mad; that was the only way this conversation could have derailed. And since his mind was blessedly free of the drums of his Battlelust, that meant Regina was the Mad one. So he had to talk her back into her right mind. That would be so much easier if he had Abraxas within grabbing distance…

Since he was on his own, Dafydd did the next best thing; he grabbed her wrists and gently pried her hands from her face, forcing her to look at him.

"What in Underland's name are you babbling on about?" he asked bluntly.  
Regina blinked, sniffing. "You… You're not mad?"  
"Of course I'm not Mad," Dafydd said, unable to help his grin. "Perfectly sane. Sane-ish." When she rolled her eyes with a weak laugh, he grinned. "I'm not angry, either. Why would I be? You're pregnant, that's amazing. So why are you upset?"  
"How can you ask?" she retorted, edging away from him to sit up and wind the sheet tightly around herself (horrible decision). "I'm pregnant with another man's child, but I promised to married you anyway. I didn't even tell you."  
Dafydd's confused frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"  
"The baby!" Regina exclaimed, exasperated. "This son of Jack's I'm carrying."  
Dafydd blinked. "Jack has nothing to do with him." Brow furrowed, puzzle pieces falling into place. "Didn't Zhithene tell you?"  
"Tell me what?" Regina asked, on her guard.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, furious. She didn't know. She didn't know? Zhithene hadn't reminded her of the prophecy from so long ago, the future she'd dangled before them?

Breathe; relax. Put Gia at ease. She'd spent so many months anxious and afraid; he would never let her feel that way again. Sit up, cup her face, ground her, remind her that she was here, that she was safe.

"Ours, Gia," he said, barely above a whisper. "The baby. He's ours. The Prince of the Promise, just like Zhithene said."  
Her eyes widened. "What?" she breathed, voice tentative as Hope turned her eyes to green, to gold. Eyes widened further as realization dawned. "You're my Lionheart." She laughed, covering her mouth to stifle the startled noise. "I… I can't believe it," she said, awed. "I was so afraid…"  
"Did you think I'd abandon you for getting pregnant?" Dafydd asked, looking mildly outraged.  
"Yes… No… Not really," she said apologetically. "It's only… How could I expect you to stay, if I was carrying Jack's baby?"  
"You silly goose," he teased her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Even if that wonder-curse was the father, the baby would still be half yours. I could never hate something that was yours."  
"But he's not," Regina said timidly, laying her hand over Dafydd's as she tried this information on for size. "He's ours. We're going to be parents."

Her jaw trembled as her eyes filled with tears once again, but this time from relief. She could hardly believe this turn in her luck. She had been so afraid, for so very long. She had resigned herself to carrying Jack's child, to being bound to him for the rest of her life. She had dreamed once of carrying Dafydd's child, a child conceived in love and trust. But then she had chosen the good of Crims over her own heart, and her dream of Dafydd's son had to be stifled in favor of the reality of bearing Jack's son for the realm.

To have that dream so suddenly restored to her… To be told that the baby she so feared was not the child of her husband, but her Beloved… She could hardly conceive of it, let alone process it. Could there be a happy ending for her and Dafydd after all?

They stared at each other, half-embracing, locked within the golden perfection of their dawning joy. They were together again; they were having a child, a son. The future was still unwritten; they could change the course of their tragedy.

* * *

They lay in a tangle of blankets, sated and sleepy and warmed by the late afternoon sun. Regina sighed in satisfaction as Dafydd played with her hair; she could spend forever like this.

"How long are you here?" he asked, tilting her head up to kiss her again.  
"Mmm… where is _here_?" she asked, grinning faintly as she ran her fingers over his short beard.  
"The Tree House," he replied cheekily, wincing as she smacked his chest. "That's what it's called! It's on the border of Crims and Queast. It's been a Resistance hideaway since Tarrant's day. Sometimes, the Queen would order so many executions that she'd forget how many were due to lose their heads. The Resistance got people out when they could, and Tarrant hid them here."  
"I didn't realize the rabbit hole had taken me so far," Regina murmured thoughtfully. "I don't know how long I can stay. I don't know when Jack is coming back-"  
"I've had people watching him," Dafydd said. "He didn't look like he was in a rush to get back. He's been… occupied. He's got Afanen with him, you know," he said suddenly.

Regina tilted her head up to look at her lover's face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes faraway; was he remembering his former Betrothed? She knew that Dafydd and Afanen were very, very over, and had been years before Regina and Dafydd ever set eyes on each other. But she had always been jealous of Afanen's prior claim on Dafydd; she would prefer if they never saw each other again.

"Do you think they're…?" she asked timidly.

She really hated that idea. Not because she wanted Jack for herself— obviously not, given her current location and complete lack of clothing. But she didn't like the idea of Jack comparing her to Afanen; what if he tried to put her aside for Afanen? Such things had happened, in the Above. She already hated Afanen; she couldn't imagine how much worse things would become if Afanen angled to replace Regina as Queen.

"I know they are," Dafydd said, frowning. "It's her way. She uses men for whatever she can get out of them. But what's she playing at this time? She has to know that she'll never rule as Queen."  
"Does it bother you?" Regina asked. "That she's my husband's mistress?"  
Dafydd shrugged. "I haven't given her a thought in a long time. The only reason it bothers me now is because you're involved. I don't want her trying to poison you in a bid to be Queen."  
"I hadn't thought of that," she frowned. "Do you think she would?"  
"At this point, I wouldn't put anything past her," he admitted. "She loves power too much to play second fiddle to anybody."  
"Do you think that's what the Tea was?" Regina hesitantly ventured.

Dafydd didn't answer in words; he merely frowned, and held her closer.

"I'm going to find a way to rescind Annwyn from her," Regina grumbled, burrowing closer into Dafydd's side and denying that she was shivering in fear. "That way, your title's waiting for you when you come home." She paused, then tilted her head back to consider him. "You _are_ going to shave when you come home, aren't you?"  
Dafydd raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you don't like my beard?"  
"It itches," she shot back impishly. "Besides, it makes you look like a shaggy lion."

He couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Dafydd sat on the bed, contentedly massaging Regina's back while she examined the clunky gold signet ring she'd brought with her.

"I need you to keep this safe for me," she said, kicking her feet up. "It's Jack's royal seal."  
Dafydd made a face. "Why not destroy it?"  
"Because if it's destroyed, Jack can order another one made," she explained. "But if he's simply lost it, he's stuck. He can't sign any new laws or issue decrees. He's just a puppet on his throne."  
"You're kind of frightening when you're being clever," Dafydd commented. "I'll keep it hidden."

Regina sighed in relief, closing her eyes and surrendering to Dafydd's tender ministrations. She'd utterly castrated Jack with this move of hers; the Puppetmaster was tangled in his own strings. The plan was nearly complete; she had only to regain her influence with the Court and she could reclaim power. And then she could bring Dafydd home, and even though they couldn't be wed, they could be together. If Jack was going to flaunt his mistress, then why shouldn't Regina make her preferences known? Her Lionheart…

She drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face as dreams of the future blossomed in her mind.

He'd just sat down to join her when there was a loud knock on the door.

Dafydd groaned. "Go away!"  
"It's about Jack," Rhys called.

Dafydd and Regina exchanged a glance. She bit her lip, scrambling out of bed and tugging on his abandoned tunic. Taking a moment to be amused by the sight of his dainty Betrothed drowning in the far too large shirt [underscored with a healthy dose of possessive male pride that she was swathed in _his_ clothes], Dafydd sighed and crossed the room, adjusting his loose-fitting sleepwear before opening the door.

"Make it fast," he snapped at his second. "And this had better be important."  
"Good morning to you too." Rhys was clearly struggling not to roll his eyes, but his voice remained professional. "Owain just sent a Bird with news. Jack's on his way back."  
"How long?" Dafydd asked, rubbing his stubbled jaw.  
"Probably about two hours, depending on the paths," Rhys replied.

Dafydd smirked, raising a silent eyebrow. In response, Rhys nodded, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"I'll talk to them."  
Dafydd nodded. "Did the Royal Ponce catch any JubJubs?"  
"Not a one," Rhys replied, mischief dancing in his eyes, though the rest of his face remained serious. "Seems they decided to breed elsewhere this year."  
"Good man," Dafydd smirked, before pointedly closing the door in Rhys' face.

He turned, catching Regina's gaze. For a moment they simply stared at each other. Then, as if on a silent signal, they stepped forward, meeting in the middle. The kiss was hard, desperate, filled with longing and bitter with goodbyes. Od's Breech, he didn't want to let her go again!

"Stay," he whispered against his better judgment.  
She smiled up at him sadly, pressing their foreheads together. "Soon," she murmured.

He sighed heavily. He'd expected that answer, but it was still disappointing. He dipped his head down to kiss her again. He knew he should let her dress and leave; she needed to be in Isla Affalin when Jack returned. But they still had a little time. Even if they didn't, he would make Time. He needed time, just enough to make enough memories to last him throughout this next stretch of separation, however long it lasted. And judging by the way she was pressing against him, she needed the memories as much as he did… Well, that settled that, then. Her wish, his command…


	6. Widowed Scenes

**Author's Note** : As you've probably gathered by now, the Series Proper was rewritten, edited, and changed a whole hell of a lot during the five years I was writing it. Mostly, I tried my best to recycle and reuse old scenes as I kept updating the plot. But there were some scenes [primarily from Books Three and Four] that I just couldn't fit back in. I saved them, and present them now to you for your enjoyment.

* * *

Shaking her head, Regina left her dressing room, crossing through the sitting room and into the small guest room that had been serving as Abraxas' nursery during his stay with his big sister. Unsurprisingly, the little prince was already awake, kicking his feet and squirming as he babbled to himself.

"Rise and shine, mo farquar," Regina crooned, walking over to his bassinette.

Brax giggled, reaching his arms up to his sister in supplication, who quickly lifted him into her arms. A frown crossed his chubby face, and his greedy fingers reached up and grasped her hat, pulling it off her head and tossing it to the ground with a properly disdainful gurgle.

"Brax!" Regina exclaimed, unable to keep from laughing. "Oh dear. You, Abraxas Hightopp, are exactly like your da."

Brax grinned, squirming happily in Regina's arms. He waved goodbye to the discarded hat as Regina spun them around to the changing table, kicking his fat feet in amusement.

As she dealt with her brother's morning ablutions, Regina's mind wandered. Would she someday be washing and diapering her own child— Dafydd's child? Her cheeks grew warm at the thought, but at the same time a slow smile grew on her face. Her child, Dafydd's child… What might their child be like, she wondered? Would they have a fine, strong son, or perhaps a lovely, lively daughter? Perhaps with her own unruly ginger curls, and Dafydd's beautiful sapphire eyes?

"Come, fy dyn bach," Regina declared. "Let's go visit the flowers, yes?"

Brax squealed in agreement, babbling in his own made-up baby language as Regina made her way through the castle and out to the gardens. She smiled, bouncing him on her hip and babbling right back at him. When they reached the gardens, Regina sighed in disappointment.

"Oh dear."

Regina had designed her gardens so as to encourage one to become pleasantly lost. The paths twisted and meandered past fragrant apple trees, overgrown honeysuckle bushes, and veritable forests of irises. There had been private alcoves, nooks for reading or quiet contemplation, niches where one would suddenly happen upon a lovely fountain or a graceful statue.

But the gardens had changed as much as the rest of the castle. Instead of romantic dishabille, the gardens were almost painfully regimented. The honeysuckle, irises, lilies and lilacs were all gone, replaced by boxy hedges and rose bushes— blood red, of course. Only Regina's emblematic apple trees remained untouched.

Regina shuddered in distaste. She recognized the clean, strong lines and minimalist style from the castle interior. Was that the sort of decor the Aboveground championed now? Fates, and she'd found Victorian England dull…

"Nyuh," Brax commented. "Agloo diyyyyglai."  
"I know," Regina nodded. "I couldn't agree more."  
"Do you like it?"

Quickly, Regina schooled her face to composure, turning around to face her Intended. He wore what he called a suit; black trousers and a jacket, with a white shirt and a thin, extremely simple cravat called a tie. He looked handsome, Regina supposed. But he also looked sharp, alien, hard; a dangerous foe to cross.

"It's… overwhelming," Regina said truthfully. "The castle, the closets, the gardens… it's quite a lot to take in at once."  
Jack smiled. "All external changes, to reflect how the Court is changing. Shall we breakfast?"  
"Yes, please," Regina nodded. "If you don't mind Abraxas joining us."  
"Not at all," Jack said. "I like to see you thus. It's good practice for the day when we have children of our own."

Regina made a non-committal noise, concentrating on keeping a pleasant smile on her face. By the Butterfly, she hoped to goodness that this royal rivalry resolved itself before there was even a faint possibility that she had to bear Jack a child! She couldn't imagine kissing Jack, let alone allowing him to touch her, to do those things to her that would result in a baby. Fates, she could scarcely contemplate having a child with Dafydd, and he was her Beloved…!

Quickly, she closed off that line of thinking. If she thought of Dafydd there was a good chance that she would begin blushing, and her eyes would most certainly change colors. She couldn't reveal their secret; she needed to control herself.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find the late afternoon sun spilling through the window. It took her a moment to realize the carriage wasn't moving; by the Flowers, had she fallen asleep? Glancing down at Abraxas, Regina sighed in relief to see he was still peacefully sleeping. Nodding in approval, she gently gathered her brother into her arms, careful not to wake him, before opening the door to the carriage and stepping out.

The cheerful hubbub of Guid Nychburris was already well underway. The full clan hadn't arrived yet, but Regina guessed that easily over half their number were here; milling through the cobblestone streets of the village, children playing with a ball in the square, music and laughter punctuating the steady drone of conversations. Regina smiled to herself as she took it all in. She loved her clan; sensitive history and murder attempts aside, she loved that the Hightopps had been reborn. And she would remind herself of that frequently when the village— where normally only roughly three hundred of their number lived full-time— felt as though it were bursting at the seams, now that the entire clan was home.

As much as she loved her clan, Regina didn't linger among them as she headed through the village. She smiled and nodded to everyone who called greetings to her, but she kept moving, intent on putting Abraxas in his cradle and changing out of her Crimsian garb and into her Hightopp tartan.

"Regina! My Sugar Cube, you're home!"

Regina grinned as she approached the High House and watched her father emerge. Tarrant was clearly feeling no pain; he clutched a goblet of honeymead in one hand, and his face seemed ready to split from the wide, proud grin.

"We're home," Regina agreed, glancing down at Brax, who yawned widely as he woke up, then squealed and held his arms out for his da.  
Tarrant grinned, plucking the child from Regina's arms, before registering Regina's clothes. "What on earth are you wearing?"  
"The new fashions of Crims," Regina said grimly.  
"It's perfectly horrid," Tarrant blurted, flabberghasted. "It seems I need to have a talk with the new King of Hearts. He has no sense of style whatsoever. Inside with you and change!"  
Regina nodded. "I'll be back in a few ticks."

She darted inside as Tarrant waved her off. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure his daughter was out of earshot, Tarrant looked down at his son.

"No she won't," he confided. "Your sister will be very much detained, and we must pretend we don't notice. Agreed, young master?"  
Brax tilted his head. "Da'eee?" he asked hopefully, tugging his da's hair.  
"Da'eee," Tarrant nodded in affirmation.

Brax squealed in pleasure, kicking his fat feet before leaning back into Tarrant's arm and beginning to babble, telling his athair everything that had happened while he visited his sister.

Unaware of her athair's comments, Regina ran into the High House, dashing up the stairs to her room. She ran for her armoire, rifling through it for something, anything, her da had made for her. Frowning in distaste, she removed the blood red, knee-length dress she had been wearing, sighing in relief as she donned the Hightopp tartan gown Tarrant had made for her nineteenth unbirthday. There; that was better. She felt like herself again.

* * *

Late morning sunshine poured through the glass walls of Isla Affalin, illuminating the room and spilling onto the desk where a young man sat hunched over his parchment, deep in thought. Gregan raised his head, brushing his sandy blond curls from his eyes as he glanced out the window, into the apple orchards.

She was down there somewhere, he knew. She spent much of her time in the privacy of the orchards— the one place in Isla Affalin that the Red King hadn't been able to change. The Trees wouldn't even allow him to step foot within their borders, and every attempt he had made to cut them down had ended with his men being strangled or ripped apart by Tree branches. So the King had had to admit defeat, and leave the orchard in peace. It was the one retreat left to the former Plum Queen, and she took full advantage of it, secure in the knowledge that the King had no way to drag her out of her sanctuary.

Gregan frowned to himself as he caught a glimpse of her, wandering through the trees like a particularly anguished ghost. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why his uncle— usually the most logical man he knew— had chosen Regina Hightopp to be his wife. From what he'd seen, Regina was nice enough, he supposed. But he just didn't see anything special about her, apart from her title. She was no different from a hundred other girls, so how had she caught his Uncle Dafydd's attention?

Gregan sighed to himself, shaking his head. Uncle Dafydd wouldn't thank him for his ruminations. He refused to hear a word against Regina, and was quick to defend his choice of her. Gregan's ears were still ringing from the last argument Dafydd and Grandmaman had gotten into on the subject.

" _She's the reason your brother is dead, Dafydd! I will not welcome my son's murderer as a daughter-in-law!"  
"Mathair, I love her. I'm going to marry her, no matter what you have to say about it, so get used to it. And Regina didn't kill Niall, I did."  
"You did it because of her!"  
"And I'd do it again, if I had to!"_

Privately, Gregan couldn't help but agree with his grandmaman. If not for Regina, Gregan would still have a father, and his family wouldn't have to be dependent upon Dafydd for their livelihood. But it wasn't his place to say so to his uncle. Dafydd had sent Gregan to Isla Affalin to keep an eye on Regina, so that was what Gregan would do.

Sighing again, Gregan returned his attention to the letter he was attempting to write. By the Aliblay, it was hard to keep Dafydd apprised of how Regina was doing when he barely knew the woman. He didn't know what details or mood swings were important; what exactly was he supposed to be looking for?

For example. In his last letter, Dafydd had asked if Regina was sleeping, or if she was staying up on her balcony all night. Now how in the name of all the Flowers was Gregan supposed to know that? His quarters were on a completely different floor and on the opposite side of the castle from the Queen's, and he wasn't in the habit of dropping by her quarters unless it was time for her music lesson. What was he supposed to do, spy on her?

Frowning, Gregan looked out the window again, watching his apparently future aunt's progress through her orchard. If he were being honest, he did notice something… well… _off_ about her, lately. Before this mess with the new King, Regina had been all smiles, her entire being pulsating with color. But three months as Jack's Intended had dampened much of that color. She was pale and wan now, and her smile was brittle and forced. Perhaps that was only to be expected; after all, she had been ousted from her throne, and she was Bound to Jack. But she also seemed constantly preoccupied; more often than not, her eyes would be glazed over, and she'd appear to be lost in her own world. Was that normal for her? Gregan didn't remember Regina ever being so disengaged and worried; even when she came to Annwyn to see Uncle Dafydd after he'd been poisoned, she had seemed confident and in control of herself. So what had changed?

Shaking his head, Gregan returned to his letter. Maybe Uncle Dafydd would be able to read what he'd written and figure it all out; Underland knew Dafydd knew every last detail about Regina.

 _Uncle Dafydd—_

 _Things are tense here. Jack keeps saying he wants a civilized court, like the Court of Hearts used to be [I don't know when "used to be" is supposed to be; Ye Olde Distante Past, I guess]. But he's quick to retaliate against anyone who questions him. Yesterday he threw a Lord into the stocks, because the man complained that he'd preferred Regina's irises to Jack's roses. So everyone's careful never to say anything that suggests they liked anything about Regina better._

 _Regina seems… distracted, I guess. She doesn't talk as much as I remember, anyways. She spends a lot of time by herself; I think she's trying to avoid Afanen [good luck there; Afanen is_ _ **everywhere**_ _. All the time.]. I don't know about her sleeping habits, but she is eating; she's always got tea and squimberry tarts when I come for her lessons. She perks up when she's around Jack; I guess she doesn't want to draw his attention to the fact that she's not herself. But if you pay attention, you can see that even though she's smiling, her eyes aren't quite focused. I don't remember her being so introspective in the past, but I guess she's got a lot on her mind._

 _She misses you. She never says, but I think it's obvious. I composed music for your poem like you asked, and played it for her during our last lesson. She sings it all the time now. It's really getting on Jack's nerves— I think that's why she does it._

 _She seems… not quite right. I can't quite put my finger on it; I don't know if she just misses you or if she's stressed or if there's something else going on. But she doesn't seem like herself._

 _I wish you could come here to see her for yourself; I don't know if her mood is something unusual or not._

— _Gregan_

* * *

Lily opened her mouth to answer, but she was distracted by the door opening. Her head snapped up, and she moved forward to shield Regina from view. Now who could this be? She had only just persuaded Alice and Tarrant to retire to their own suite to rest, and no one else knew this room was occupied. It needed to stay that way; if Jack got word that Regina was being dried out from the frightening amount of Teas she'd been poisoned with, who knew what he might do to get her back under his control?

She sighed in relief, relaxing as she registered her husband's dark curls peeking around the door, followed closely by the rest of his dear head. Her relief only became indignation, however, when she saw who Ioan was leading in.

"Dafydd! Where in all the worlds have you been?" she seethed.

Dafydd ignored Lily, walking straight to his mother and kissing her forehead while she sighed deeply and gripped his forearms.

"Everyone's out," he informed her.  
"You're hurt," she said in distress, spotting Dafydd's hand wrapped in bloody bandages. "And your sword hand too, stupid boy."  
"Don't you dare ignore me, Dafydd Hightopp," Lily seethed, stomping her foot. "Answer me. Jack's been brutalizing Regina for months, and she's been pumped so full of Tea that I'm amazed she didn't go utterly Mad. And you abandoned her. Now tell me where you've been before I make up my mind to take off your head!"  
"Lily-" Ioan started.  
"Don't you _Lily_ me, Ioan," she snapped, cutting him off. "I won't let you shield him. Not this time. Last time he got her kidnapped and nearly killed, and now she's been drugged within an inch of her life. I _will_ have an answer from him!"

Ioan and Gwynyth both inhaled sharply at Lily's words, and Dafydd paled drastically beneath the hood of his cloak. It had been cruel of her to bring up their adventures in the Outlands, Lily knew. It hadn't been Dafydd's fault that Regina had been kidnapped, and indeed he had gone Mad when they all believed her to be dead. He still hadn't forgiven himself for anything that had happened, and to throw that dark time back in his face was cruel of her. But Lily stood by what she'd said. As much as she liked Dafydd, his track record as Gigi's Champion was less than admirable, and someone had to hold him accountable for it.

Ioan stepped between Lily and Dafydd, his face hard. "Stop it, Lily," he snapped. "You don't know what Dafydd's been doing, and he's not going to be here long enough to explain it. Leave it to his Queen to judge his actions."

So saying, Ioan took a firm hold of Lily, steering her to the door and overpowering her when she tried to dig her feet in. Just before he left, he glanced over his shoulder to his cousin.

"You're safe here," he promised. "My men will ensure that no one knows you're here, and we'll get you back to Crims without anyone knowing. I'll fetch Tarrant for you. Now let Aunt Gwyn look at your hand, you stubborn scut."

Dafydd rolled his eyes, but before he could chuck something at his cousin's smirking face, Ioan shut the door, leaving him alone with his mathair. Gwynyth fixed her Look on him, silently pointing to the chair by Regina's bed.

"It's not serious," he tried to assure her.

In response, Gwynyth pointed to the chair again. Sighing in defeat, Dafydd sat down, watching his mother as she went to the table where she'd placed her healing bag.

"I'll be the judge of that," she said, unwrapping his hand and examining the deep gash on his palm. "What happened?"  
"Albion," Dafydd said shortly, averting his gaze to Regina's sleeping face. "Ambushed us while we were moving the last few people out."  
"But everyone's safe," Gwynyth confirmed, poking at his hand.  
"Aye," he nodded, hissing as she found a particularly painful spot. "Are you trying to kill me, woman?"  
"Don't be such a baby," she scoffed. "Knowing you, you barely flinched when you got this, don't give me that."

* * *

Speaking of misbehaving… He snapped to attention as Regina sighed, shifting.

"I'm here, cariad," he whispered, stroking her damp, Tea-soaked hair. "It's alright, dearbadan-de, open your eyes."  
"But I'm having the loveliest dream," she murmured, her voice cracked and hoarse.

His heart leaped into his throat at the sound of her voice. Was she waking up? Was the worst of the Tea sickness over? Kissing her fingers, he released her hand, awkwardly pouring her a goblet of water with his non-dominant hand [even he wasn't daft enough to try to grip a heavy earthware pitcher with an injured hand]. When he turned back to her, he saw she'd shifted onto her side, curling into herself with her eyes determinedly screwed shut. Smiling to himself, he walked around the bed and sat beside her, easily overpowering her when she tried to stay laying down and pulling her into his lap. He tilted his head around to look at her, grinning when he saw her displeased pout, and pulled her hair back from her neck so he could sneak a taste.

"Stop trying to wake me, ma taavi," she frowned, even as she sank into him bonelessly.  
"But what if you're not waking up?" he asked against her neck. "What if you're falling asleep, and the only way you can dream is if you open your eyes?"  
"Now you sound like my da," she grumbled.

Still, she tilted her head back, resting it against his shoulder as her eyes fluttered open.

He smiled as he pulled her closer, gently placing his lips on hers. She sighed as he pulled away a moment later, then shuddered, groaning weakly as a wisp of smoke left her mouth. A moment later, she was hanging over the edge of the bed, panting weakly as she vomited a thin purple liquid into a bucket, purple tears leaking from her eyes. Dafydd winced, gathering Regina's hair back and rubbing her back. Fear had been a sickly yellow, and he remembered from seeing Tea addicts in his youth that cloudy grey was Anxiety… he was willing to bet this purple color was Doubt.

"This is humiliating," she moaned pathetically.  
"But it's good," he pointed out. "The sooner you get all the Tea out of your system, the better. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Getting Regina into his arms proved difficult with one hand injured, but he managed to get them into the bathroom somehow, and to turn on the hot water. And anyways, the aching in his hand was well worth having Regina back in his arms, even if she was curling into him like a weak newborn kitten. He held her close, rocking her gently as they waited for the tub to fill. She whimpered in protest as he removed her nightdress, and shivered pathetically, her entire body covered in gooseflesh as her fevered skin was hit by the cool air. But then he helped her into the bathtub, and the audible groan of pleasure she released as she sank to her shoulders sorely tested his resolve to behave himself. He chastised himself, even as he took a good look at her body through the water. She was sick and miserable; this was clearly not the time to be lusting after her. He could enjoy the view, though.

And enjoy the view he did. He also thoroughly enjoyed soaping her up, forgoing a sponge and using his hand to wash away the traces of Tea. Ohhhh how he wished he had the use of both his hands… He kept his promise to himself, though. He behaved. Begrudgingly. When she was cleaned off, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and moved to stand and fetch a towel, but he was stopped by Regina catching his arm. He glanced down at her just in time to see her frowning at his injured hand.

"It's nothing," he assured her.

He then promptly grunted in pain, frowning at her as she knowingly pressed her thumb into his palm.

"That's unfair."  
She rolled her eyes before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the bandage. "I'm sorry, ma taavi," she sighed. "I've abandoned you lately. You're doing all the fighting."  
"You have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, motioning at the cloudy, colored water. "You've had your own problems."  
"Still, that ends now," she said resolutely. "It's time I helped you fight for what's ours."  
He smiled faintly. "Now that sounds like my Gia," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her.

Her mind was reeling, and her whole body tingled with pins and needles, as though she were waking up after a very long sleep. Her entire being was buzzing, on fire, and she felt every brush of Dafydd's fingers more intensely than she'd felt anything in months. These were her real emotions, she realized dimly, let loose after being blocked out by Tea for so long. Leave it to Dafydd to release them so easily.

In short order, Dafydd had Regina dried off and bundled up in bed, warm and safe where he could keep an eye on her.

"I love you," she breathed.  
"I love you too," he murmured, stroking her hair.  
"Do you have to go?" she asked, already clinging to him in defiance of goodbye.

Yes, he did. He needed to speak to Tarrant about the expulsion of the Hightopps from Annwyn. He needed to return to his men in the forest. He had a Resistance to lead…

He shook his head, tightening his arms around her. "Not yet."

More important than all of that was this. He'd dreamt of this, of holding Regina as she slept, for far too long to walk away now that he had his chance. Besides, he'd not slept in two days; he could afford to nap for a while. So he felt no guilt as Regina curled into him with a satisfied sigh. He held her close, resting his head on hers and absently playing with her hair as he listened to her fall asleep.

Strange; it felt so strange to lay in a soft bed, in an enclosed room. He had been living outside for months; constantly in the fresh air, sleeping on a thin cot not much more comfortable than the ground. He'd spent nearly all his life living like that. To suddenly be enclosed inside again, to be sinking into the mattress… it should have been uncomfortable, alien, driving him Mad. He should have felt trapped, like a wild beast in a cage.

But he didn't feel trapped. Yes, he preferred to feel wide open spaces and the free air on his face, but he was no longer able to sleep without the soft lullaby of Regina's breathing. It was amazingly quiet indoors; all the better to hear her. He had to store this memory up; it would have to last a long, long time. Who knew when he would be able to do this again?

He would honestly prefer to stay awake for hours and enjoy this. But he really was exhausted, so eventually he allowed himself to close his eyes and join Regina in dreamland.

* * *

Deciding not to risk wasting time, Regina tightly wrapped her fist around Jack's ring and made her way through the castle, ignoring the courtiers and servants as she made her way outside to her apple orchard. Once she got within the sanctuary of her Trees, she could escape and hide the ring, but until then it wasn't safe, and she must be very careful not to arouse suspicion…

"Your Majesty!"

Regina froze, panicking for a moment. No, no, she couldn't let anyone near her, what if they should suspect what she'd taken…? Run, flee, get to the safety of the Trees!

No, she stopped herself, drawing a deep breath. To run away would only cause suspicion. Besides, she was the Queen. No one would question her. And if this was a servant or courtier looking to her for decisions… well, that was a good sign, wasn't it? She needed the Court to trust her again; she needed their support.

Drawing another steadying breath, Regina turned, schooling her face into composure as her gaze fell upon a young maid; Flowers, they were called. Young daughters of the Lords and Ladies, they served as handmaidens and messengers for the members of the Court.

"Yes, little darling?" she asked kindly, looking down at the little girl who couldn't be older than seven.  
The girl bobbed a quick curtsey, looking up at Regina with naked awe on her face. "Please, Majesty, will you answer me a question?"  
"Why, you've already asked one," Regina teased her gently, sinking down before the girl. "But if you like I'll answer you another one."  
The little girl smiled prettily. "My sisters were arguing this morning. Violetta said that you were going to hold a ball for us, and that we'd all dance all night long and into the morning. But Rosa said it wasn't so, nohow. I said I would ask, but they laughed at me and said not to be foolish." The little girl frowned, her rosebud lips pouting. "Is there going to be a ball, Lady?"  
"What's your name, little one?" Regina asked, tilting her head.  
"Daisy," the little girl said, bobbing another curtsey.  
"Well, little Daisy, you may tell your sisters that of course there's going to be a ball! Not today and not even tomorrow, but we shall have a ball, just as soon as the King returns home. Would you like that, Daisy?"  
"Oh, yes," Daisy nodded eagerly. "I love wearing my pretty dresses, and eating the cakes!"  
Regina grinned. "My favorite is the jingleberry with the chocolate icing."  
"Mine's banana with squimberry sauce!" Daisy giggled.  
"Shall we have both at the ball, Miss Daisy?" Regina asked.  
"Yes!" Daisy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly.  
"Very well then, I'll make sure of it," Regina nodded. "Now go tell your sisters. You must all look your very prettiest for the ball."  
"We will!" Daisy promised before rushing off.

Regina smiled faintly as she stood. She loved the children of the Court, for the most part. Maybe she would design them their very own playground within the castle grounds… Sighing, she shook her head. That was a problem for later. Right now, she had to get into the orchard.

* * *

After watching her go, Tarrant returned his attention to his daughter.

"You aren't returning to reside in Crims, Regina," he said quietly.  
"But-"  
"No," Tarrant said firmly, his face set in determination. "Don't think I can't see that mark on your neck. I will not allow you to remain with a husband who treats you so ill, not when you're with child. You're coming with me to Tearmunn, and you're staying there until you've given birth to your son."

Regina bit her lip and nodded meekly. She had never seen her athair so stern before; this was not a Tarrant to cross. Not that she wanted to return, she admitted. Jack had already gotten her pregnant; she didn't want him anywhere near her son.

Her son…

Oh Fates, she was going to be someone's Mathair. It didn't seem possible; she was still so young herself! Granted, she wasn't entirely certain how old she was. She was probably about twenty-two if one counted by the Days; but she had Aged past that, perhaps to twenty-five. Still, the fact remained that she was very young; too young to be a mathair.

Would she love a child who'd been conceived in such unhappiness, she wondered? Could she love the son of a man she hated and feared? Then again, the poor bairn hadn't chosen his athair, anymore than she had…

Her face crumpled again as she rested a hand on her stomach. Oh, how she wished that this son had been Dafydd's, a baby conceived in love and trust and not by force. What would Dafydd say when he found out that she was bearing Jack's child? Would he still love her? Would he still return home to her, when she had to raise another man's child?

* * *

It was an absolutely beautiful spring afternoon. The sun shone warm and sultry, the breeze was perfumed with the scent of Flowers, and there was a happy, contented energy in the air as the inhabitants of Hatsfield went about their errands and business.

It was a shame, then, that such a beautiful day should be spoiled by the scene currently brewing in front of the High House.

The air crackled with tension and barely-contained violence. The two opposed parties were lined up and squared off, glaring at each other over the narrow strip of no-man's land. The invaders were clustered around their captive, watching him warily even though he was secured in chains; they all knew the stories of this man, and they knew what he was capable of. The defenders glared in utter fury at the invaders' gall at having taken one of their own captive, to say nothing of their further demands.

"Ur ye daft?" Tarrant burred, his irises a dangerous shade of orange.  
"Indeed not, Laird Hightopp," Duff, Captain of the Albion, said stiffly.  
"My son-in-law realizes, I hope, that if any of you lays a single finger on my daughter, I will consider Witzend and Crims at war," Alice seethed, every bit as furious as her husband.  
"We have our orders, Majesty," Duff replied. "And we won't hesitate to go through you to get to her."

At this, Dafydd gave a wordless snarl, lunging once again against the chains and soldiers that held him fast. Similarly, Alice snarled, gripping the hilt of the Aliblay.

"I'd like to see you try," she said darkly.  
"Oh for goodness' sake, this is ridiculous."

The Champion Queen and her attendant Clubs, The Hatter King and his Fearail clansmen, and the intruding Albion jerked to attention, their gazes snapping to the front door of the High House where Regina stood, resplendent in a gown of Hightopp tartan. Regally, she swept forward, fixing Jack's captain with a disdainful gaze. As Duff took a step towards her, Dafydd snarled again, trying to reach his queen despite the chains and the soldiers.

"Now, Captain, explain yourself at once," she said, her voice cold as ice.

Really, if Alice hadn't been so furious, she would have been quite amused by the way the captain jumped and snapped to attention at the authority in Regina's voice, before remembering himself and what he'd been tasked to do.

"I'm charged by his Majesty the King of Hearts to place yourself and the traitor Dafydd Hightopp under arrest, and to convey you both to Isla Affalin to stand trial for crimes against the Crown."  
"Oh, is that all?" Regina said, sounding unconcerned. "Fates, man, you could have just said so, instead of attacking my Champion and causing such a ruckus."  
Duff glared. "The traitor is no such thing-"  
"Have a care for your words, Captain," Regina snapped. "I may be a White Queen and sworn to cause no harm, but my Champion is under no such oath. Anger me too much and I'll ensure he puts you in a great deal of pain."

The Captain scoffed, but Regina noticed he was edging away from Dafydd, who was teetering on the edge of sanity. She should probably do something about that…

"Are you coming willingly or am I bodily throwing you into the wagon?" he asked, regaining some of his pompous, supercilious nature.  
"Watch your tone, Captain," Dafydd snapped, with all the authority of a general. "This is your Queen, and she's pregnant with your future King."  
"She's no Queen of mine," Duff said, spitting at Regina's feet. "And she bears nothing but an Outlander's bastard."

Regina's eyes drifted shut, and her brow furrowed in remorse. Well, now he'd gone and done it…

She stood very still, keeping her eyes securely shut as she heard the shriek of metal links giving way, the startled cries of men, the ferocious sounds of a deadly melee. She couldn't decide which was worse, the sounds of the fight or the noises dying out.

Dimly, Regina heard Alice call her name in alarm before a pair of rough hands framed her face. And then he was kissing her, punishing and demanding; the kiss of Madness. It was fairly terrifying to be in his grasp when he was lost to his anger like this, but she couldn't let him know she was frightened; she had to pull him back to himself. So, instead of trying to escape his fury, she submitted to him, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing him closer. He growled in satisfaction, kissing her even more fiercely as her hands stroked along his taut shoulders. She felt more than saw the moment when he began to relax; she felt his shoulders easing, felt the tension leaving his back and jaw. She hummed in approval, fingers stroking his beard-covered jaw and cheekbones, softly soothing the beast until he was calm again.

"It's alright," she said softly, running her hands through his hair. "We're both alright, everything's fine. Shhh, ma taavi."  
Dafydd sighed wearily, resting his head atop hers. "They didn't hurt you?"  
"They didn't touch me," she assured him, closing her eyes so she wouldn't see the bodies over Dafydd's shoulder. "You kept us safe."

Dafydd sighed again, in relief this time. He slid his arms around her waist, cradling her and their unborn child.

"What are you going to do?" Alice ventured, taking a hesitant half-step forward. "It won't be too long before Jack realizes his men are… well… delayed."  
"By the time he does, we'll be long gone," Dafydd stated.  
"No," Regina said suddenly, pulling back.

Dafydd stared at her in confusion, and Alice and Tarrant joined in their son-in-law's [for such he was, in all the ways that counted] befuddlement.

"What?" Dafydd asked.  
"No, I don't want to run," Regina said.

She did her best to keep her face calm as Dafydd's fingers dug into her waist and his eyes stared fading to grey, which was the color they turned when he was angry. Hurriedly, she placed her hands on his cheeks, stroking along his cheekbones as she rushed to explain.

"Hear me out," she begged. "We've hidden our love for so long, and for what? Everyone already knew, even before we did. I don't want to hide anymore. Besides, if everyone already knows then it's not really hiding, is it?"  
"Regina, we're not hiding-"  
"We are," she argued. "I ran away so I wouldn't have to deal with Jack anymore. So there he is, sitting in _my_ palace, claiming _my_ throne, and ruining _my_ home! I won't stand for it any longer, Dafydd. We are going home. I am reclaiming my crown, you are taking up your sword again, and we will make everything right, together," she said, a stubborn look settling over her pretty features. "And I would prefer to return under our own power, rather than in chains and at Jack's mercy."

Dafydd looked at Regina silently for a long moment. Alice and Tarrant hung back, watching with interest and only a little trepidation. Dafydd was clearly still not fully in control of himself, though the way Regina handled him was nothing short of miraculous. His hands had closed on her upper arms, while hers rested on his chest, and they were staring at each other, drowning in each others' gazes while they had an entire, silent conversation. Finally, Dafydd released a great sigh, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Regina's as her arms slid around his neck.

"Alright, dearbadan-de," he said quietly. "If you think it's a good idea."  
Regina nodded, smiling faintly. "You'll keep us safe."  
"Always," he whispered.

Coughing pointedly, Tarrant touched Alice's arm, turning his back to give the young lovers a moment to themselves. Alice sighed, following her husband as he approached the slain soldiers and helping him to heft the first one.

"It was nice, having her home again," Alice said wistfully.  
"Aye, that it was, my Teacup," Tarrant agreed sadly. "I expect we'll be waiting a long time for the next visit."  
"Ah well, I suppose it can't be helped," Alice sighed. "Next time, perhaps they'll bring a grandchild home for us to spoil."  
"I suppose you're right," Tarrant nodded. "Whatever shall we do with these unwanted guests?"  
"I suppose we ought to bury them," Alice frowned. "But I do so hate to sully Tearmunn's soil."  
"Well, there's that wagon over there," Tarrant said, nodding towards the cart that had been intended to transport Regina and Dafydd. "We could return them to their master."  
"Oh, I like that much better," Alice nodded.

While Alice, Tarrant, the Fearail and the Clubs got to work, Regina and Dafydd retreated indoors to pack up their things. Or rather, Dafydd shooed Regina into an armchair to rest while he packed their things. After three attempts to get up and help him, Regina huffed and sat down, folding her arms and muttering about overprotective fools who doubted her health when she felt just _fine_ , thank you! His lips quirking, Dafydd pointedly ignored his Beloved, packing with quick, neat motions.

"Will you cut your hair before we return?" Regina asked suddenly, tilting her head.  
Dafydd paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "You think I should?"  
"No," she decided, to his surprise. "At first I thought it might be better, but now that I think on it I realize that you look quite fierce like that. Half-wild. Maybe that would be better to assure compliance from the Court. No, you can shave afterwards."

He let out a short bark of laughter, before sobering. Just what would happen between now and afterwards? Regina seemed fully confident that she could wrest control back from Jack, but Dafydd wasn't so certain. Not that he doubted Regina's right to the throne superceded Jack's; no, he was fully confident on that point. But he was equally sure that Jack would never give up his crown, at least not without a terrific fight. Of course Dafydd would stand between Jack and Regina and keep her from any harm; that was his vow as her Champion and his promise as her Beloved. But how much of a fight was he in for? How much of a battle would it be, to re-crown Regina? How many injuries, or Fates forbid, how many deaths? How much harm would have to occur to place the White Queen back on her throne?

When they were packed, Dafydd and Regina made their way downstairs, where Alice, Tarrant and Brax were waiting to see them off. Smiling ruefully, Regina submitted to Alice's embrace.

"I'm sorry the visit got cut short, Mama," Regina murmured.  
"But duty calls," Alice sighed, kissing Regina's forehead. "Take care of yourself, sweetheart. And my grandson. Fates, that sounds so odd," she chuckled.

* * *

Witzend rolled her eyes as she perched on the roof of the tent, invisible to all eyes. What characters these Kittens had turned out to be. She was sure she'd never been such a saucy kitten. And she should remember; it hadn't been all that long ago that she'd been a Kitten herself.

She sighed, the sound melancholy. No, it hadn't been so very long ago that she had been a Kitten, with a wide blue silk ribbon tied in a neat bow around her neck. She lost herself in a sudden and fierce desire to be that Kitten again. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be curled up against Regina's stomach right now, falling asleep while Regina whispered her a fairy tale?

But those days were gone now, Witzend reflected sadly. Even if she could somehow magically become a Kitten again, she could never go back to the relationship she and Regina had once had. Regina had needed Witzend in the Aboveground, when she was lost behind the wrong name, lonely and alone. Jane had needed a friend, a piece of Wonderland's magic to sustain her until she could return home, and so she had found Witzend and saved her from being drowned as a stray.

But then they had stumbled into Underland. Jane had found her parents, her home, her name. And then Regina had found her heart in Dafydd. She didn't need Witzend anymore, not when she was no longer alone.

Witzend hadn't abandoned her Mistress, though. Even when she'd left Regina's side to train under her grandsire, she had tried to secure a beautiful future for Regina. She had engineered that first kiss between Regina and Dafydd, to make them both aware of their own hearts; she had ensured that their son would be conceived. She had even influenced events to bring Scraps and Buttons into Regina's life— a move she was trying very hard not to regret right now— to keep her company now that Witzend was gone.

Witzend had done all she could for her beloved little Mistress. But she could show Regina no more favors; she could no longer even think of Regina as her Mistress. Her grandsire had been right; she had become too attached to Regina, to the detriment of Underland. She had been so focused on giving Regina her Prince Charming and a happily ever after that she'd lost sight of the bigger picture. Now Underland stood unstable, threatened from within, and Witzend needed to let her little Mistress go so that she could move Regina to where she was needed.

Were these growing pains? She certainly felt much older. She wasn't entirely certain she liked the feeling. If this was the necessary process to attaining wisdom, perhaps it would be easier simply to remain an ignorant Kitten.

Witzend smiled to herself ruefully; if only. Wouldn't it be wonderful to make Time halt in his tracks? But no; Time would never cease to move on, and so she must go on with it. Such was life.

Sighing, she spared one more glance to the bed, where Regina lay sleeping, securely wrapped in her Dafydd's embrace while he lay awake, stroking her abdomen. She took a moment to feel proud of herself for having brought this romance to pass, before smiling softly.

"Live well, Regina," she murmured. "And fairfarren."

With a swish of her invisible tail, the Cheshire Cat departed, leaving her mistress to her destiny.

* * *

Isla Affalin was a beautiful place in the afternoon sun. The white marble gleamed, the gold trim shined, the glass walls and crystal chandeliers sparkled and threw rainbows everywhere.

Regina was blind to her palace's beauty as she walked through one of the main gallery halls, her face set in contemplative lines. Humming to herself absently, she directed her feet toward the library, wondering if the books even contained the information she sought.

She had waited until after breakfast with her husband, until he was ensconced in his study with his Ministers. Then she made her way outside, to observe the Albion's mid-morning training [privately remarking to herself that they weren't nearly as disciplined about their training as her Fearail had been].

"Captain Duff, a word," she said, her sweet voice nevertheless indicating a command, not a request.

Regina really didn't like Duff very much. If it was merely his brusque, short manner she wouldn't have minded; after all, she had a marked preference for the quiet type. But Duff was Jack's man through and through; his Champion, the Ace of Hearts. He'd been awarded Dafydd's title and estate after Jack had banished Dafydd. And Duff paid little to no deference to Regina, even though she was Jack's Queen and lady wife.

Still, Regina needed information that Duff could provide, so she reminded herself to be civil as she approached.

"What is it?" he asked, gruff and impatient as he peered down his nose at her.  
She bristled at his tone, but forced her voice to remain calm. "I want to discuss the Albion's guard of the castle."  
Duff scowled. "That's none of your concern-"  
"My lord husband's safety is most certainly my concern," she shot back. "He confided to me that he feared an attempt on his life!"  
"Oh, that," Duff said, his hostility relaxing into irritation. "Load of hogswash, that. The King's safe. Couple'a accidents and suddenly he's as paranoid as you are, ravin' 'bout conspiracies and rebellions."  
"Have a care, Captain," Regina said coldly, laying a hand on her belly. "I am not your sovereign, but I am your Queen, and I bear your future King."

Duff grumbled, but obeyed her warning. Nodding to herself, she continued.

"Accidents, you said," she prompted. "What kinds of accidents?"  
"Nothing serious," he reported sullenly. "Broken carriage axles, highway robbers. Nothin' we can't handle."  
"I see," Regina mused. "Unfortunately, the Doctor is unavailable at present. Still, there may be a cure or remedy for his anxiety in the medicinal tomes in the library. Until then, I'd like the Albion to keep a more visible presence in the palace. And you will remain nearby at all times. Perhaps if the King sees his Champion nearby, it will ease his mind and allow him to focus on ruling."

He'd wanted to object, she could see it in his eyes. But unfortunately for him, Regina had raised good points. Jack needed to be focused on the affairs of state; as his Champion, it was Duff's duty to provide that focus.

Regina allowed herself a grin as Duff begrudgingly sketched her a jerky bow. If the Albion were focused on protecting Jack, they wouldn't be quite as focused on her. She'd welcome the relative freedom.

Now, as Regina made her way to the library, the bulk of the Albion's 300-strong force had been moved indoors to give Jack the illusion of safety against a nonexistent threat.

Or, she amended as her fingers brushed the little card in her pocket, perhaps not so nonexistent, if Aderyn's tales of the Carpenter were to be believed. And perhaps it was wishful thinking on Regina's part, but she rather wanted to believe. If he was real, the Carptenter was being careful, very careful, to plan attacks that looked like accidents to anyone else, but which would prey upon Jack's natural mistrust and paranoia. Dafydd had always been a tactical genius… Very well, then. She would play his game, and hope that she was right.

As she pushed open the doors to the library, Regina smiled at her young handmaid. "You're certain you don't mind accompanying me?" she asked. "It'll likely be boring, as I have no idea what I'm looking for."  
Aderyn rolled her eyes. "It's my job to accompany you, milady, remember?"  
"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, leading the way inside.  
"Ah, your Majesty!" twittered Passaridae, Court Librarian and Regina's former tutor. "Good afternoon! What can I do for you today?"  
"Well met, Master Passaridae," Regina politely greeted him. "I'd like some books about pregnancy, please. And also anything related to paranoia and delusions, and how to cure them."  
"I see," the Sparrow said, ruffling his feathers. "That may take me a few minutes. If you'd like to sit…?"  
"Thank you," Regina nodded, moving off to a study nook.

As promised, a few minutes later the Sparrow returned, his wings full of books. And then he returned again… and once again… Regina and Aderyn blinked at the huge pile of materials.

"I'll go get us some tea," Aderyn said faintly. "Maybe some scones."

The next several hours were slow and frustrating, as Regina really didn't know much of anything about Jack's paranoia beyond what little she'd been told. Without knowing more, she couldn't determine precisely what was the matter, which made treatment impossible. What she needed was the Doctor… Assuming she could even trust him, given that he too was Jack's creature. Although perhaps that could work in her favor, if she played on the fact that Jack needed to be kept safe and healthy…

The moon was rising high in the sky when she finally gave up, pushing back her chair and rubbing her eyes.

"This was a waste of time," she muttered.  
"Not completely, milady," Aderyn said wearily. "We've got all these books about pregnancy now. This one's even by Queen Mirana," she said, holding up a thick scroll.  
"That is something," Regina conceded. "Alright. Let's take a few of these back to my rooms."  
"You need to eat something, milady," Aderyn fussed as they gathered the books Regina wanted and carried them back to her chambers. "It's not good for you or the little prince to go so long without proper food."  
"I haven't been hungry," Regina confessed.  
"I know," Aderyn nodded. "Just a light meal, then. Tea and toast and a little fruit. You have to keep your strength up."  
"You're as bad as Azalea," Regina grumbled, but she submitted to her maid's demands.

No sooner had Regina settled down with her repast and one of her books but Jack walked into her suite. She stiffened slightly, on the alert around her husband as ever, but she summoned a smile for him as he crossed the room.

"Hello, Jack," she greeted him.  
"Good evening, my dove," he replied, sitting across from her. "Why weren't you down for supper? The ambassadors from Queast arrived today," he frowned disapprovingly.  
"You didn't tell me they were coming," Regina observed. "I was in the library, looking for information about childbirth."  
"Ah," Jack said, his disapproval smoothing into smug satisfaction. "How is our son today?"  
"Doing well, I suppose," she replied, laying a hand on her stomach. "Noble told me it's too early yet to feel him move."  
"I've been thinking of building another palace," Jack remarked, leaning back in his seat. "Something smaller, for you to retire with the baby. Raise him in peace for a couple of years, away from the noise and pressures of Court."

 _Even further away from the throne than I already am_ , she translated.

"The idea of being away for my confinement is tempting," she admitted. "But raise our son away from his father? I couldn't possibly! What would people say?"  
"They'd say how wise we were," Jack said dismissively. "You're still very frail, Regina. I don't think Court is a good place for you, especially when you're increasing."  
"But-!" she started, before she cut herself off.

As usual, Jack had backed her into a corner. He had set himself up as the perfect hero— the attentive, loving, chivalrous Shining Knight who loved his broken, Mad, foreign Queen and dedicated himself to her welfare and the safety of their country. She couldn't fight against such a paragon without making herself look like the villain— Mad and unstable. She'd only rally more people to Jack's cause.

He had her trapped. Again. And judging by the triumphant gleam in his cold eyes, he knew that she knew it.

Blast him.

"Very well," she muttered sullenly. "I'm sure you know best, Jack."  
"Yes," he said silkily. "I do."

* * *

Safely locked in his study, the King of Hearts paced back and forth, running an agitated hand through his hair as he scowled out the window at the early morning sunshine. Damn the cheerful sunshine; it was making it wretchedly hard to think.

His plan had been going perfectly well. Regina had been incapacitated, first through the Joust-sanctioned Betrothal and then through Tea. He had silenced all his opposition and subdued Crims. He had taken back his rightful destiny as the King of Hearts, and all was well.

And then the same sort of ill-advised Resistance that had plagued his mother's rule had cropped up to bother him.

There were stories in all the Crimsian villages of a man named the Carpenter. He reminded Jack of the Aboveground stories of Robin Hood, stealing from Jack's nobles and giving aid to the towns and disenfranchised Court members Jack had expelled. The peasants made a folk hero of him, claimed that he was a nobleman Jack had wronged who had sworn to put Regina back on the throne. Jack had been quick to place spies on his enemies, and he knew for a fact that all of them were accounted for. Even the Duke of Annwyn, Regina's former Champion, was minding his own business at his manor.

Jack had put a bounty on the Carpenter's head and outlawed him, and all of his armies were on the lookout for the fugitive. And yet, the infernal man continually evaded capture. He was like a shadow, a ghost, able to slip through any trap they devised for him.

And it was driving Jack Mad.

His inability to catch the Carpenter was hurting his credibility as a monarch. The fact that he was being villainized by his subjects, that they were rallying around this outlaw as a Resistance figure, was worrying. His mother had been brought down by Resistance rabble; he wouldn't repeat her mistakes. He had to find this Carpenter and take him down. And that was why he was pacing through his office, wracking his brains and trying to think of a ploy to call the Carpenter out into the open.

Obviously, brute force wasn't going to do it for him. He had been trying that, and it simply wasn't working. The Carpenter must have aid and allies from the villages and cities in the kingdom. Jack could place trade embargos on the towns where the Rebellion simmered… but that could simply add fuel to the fire and give the Resistance more to fight for. Or… Or he could go along with the Robin Hood motif. Prince John had trapped Robin Hood by holding an archery contest, with a golden arrow and a kiss from Maid Marian as the prize. The stories did all agree that the Carpenter was fighting to put Regina back on the throne…

* * *

But here in Marmoreal, there was no such invisibility. No matter what time of day or where she went, she was the center of attention. Court Ladies observed her Crimsian fashions with shock and awe, which certainly didn't help Regina feel very comfortable in the fashions Jack had decided on for his Court. Lily kept a hawkish eye on the bags beneath her eyes, her continued fatigue. Alice found excuses to check in on her every few hours, and Tarrant plied her with so much tea she was sure she'd float away.

Worst of all, there was no recourse from Jack. When he'd arrived for the funeral, Lily couldn't come up with a good reason to put him in a separate suite from his wife. So, she'd reluctantly ordered the King and Queen of Crims to be lodged in the solar of the two o'clock tower; under no circumstances would Lily allow Jack to set foot in Regina's private compartment on the third floor. Regina had retreated to her suite during the day. But at night she was trapped in the solar with Jack.

Her altered behavior hadn't gone unnoticed. Lily frowned when Regina finally appeared at noon, commenting that until recently Gigi had always been a morning person. Alice managed to keep her tongue, barely, but privately she fretted to Tarrant about the heavy powder Regina wore [what was she hiding?] and how listless she seemed [wasn't that terribly unlike their butterfly?]. Tarrant's eyes would narrow as he watched his wee li'l boy become nervous and skittish and wary whenever her husband was about.

* * *

Regina never slept the nights Jack shared her bed.

She'd gotten used to his brand of mindless, selfish rutting; had become quite good at laying back and passively accepting him inside while her mind took her far away to places he couldn't touch.

She never thought of Dafydd when she was with Jack. Part of her recoiled from the idea of connecting her lost Beloved to anything involving Jack, to say nothing of this act that she'd found so joyful with him and so repulsive now. Part of her was paranoid that Jack would somehow know if she thought of Dafydd, and that she would be punished. Jack had already promised twice to bring her Dafydd's head; it seemed like the height of foolishness to tempt Fate by thinking of her lover in her marriage bed.

Mostly, it just hurt too much to think of him.

She hadn't seen or heard from him since she'd left Tearmunn after recuperating from the Teas. He was banished now; she had no idea where he'd gone when Annwyn was taken from him. She knew that he wasn't in Tearmunn with his family, that none of her clan seemed to know where he'd gone. She'd known, when they'd said farewell in Hatsfield, that it was the end for them. To think about him now, when it was possible— even likely— that they'd never meet again, was a level of masochism Regina was unwilling to sink to.

So no, Regina tried never to think of the man she loved with all her heart and soul. She tried to accept the mess she'd made and to make the most of her lot. She tried not to hate her husband, even as she plotted to undermine him.

But still, she never slept when he lay in her bed. Somehow, the idea of falling asleep beside Jack seemed like a bigger betrayal of Dafydd than the fact that she'd married Jack.

* * *

She crept— slowly, so very carefully— back into her dressing room. In the bottom of one of her five armoires was the travel satchel she used for her frequent trips between Crims and Witzend. Delicately, trying very hard to be silent, she packed what she needed. The sea foam green dress that had been sent to her by the Carpenter. Her baby blanket, carefully wrapped around her old copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. The hand mirror she used to communicate with Lily. Mirana's scroll. Her Hightopp Hat. She checked that her Heart Rock was around her neck, and drew a thick black velvet hooded cloak over her thin lawn nightgown. Right, that was everything.

She froze as something brushed against her ankle, relaxing as her ears registered the soft purr of her Kitten.

"Come on, Scraps," she whispered, bending to gather him in her arms. "Quiet, now."

Scraps nuzzled her hand with a quiet meow before settling down. Standing, Regina turned to look at the armoire that opened to the Heart. Hesitating, she bit her lip; could she abandon the Heart again?

 _I'm coming back for you,_ she silently promised. _I will always come back to you._

She should leave a note, she knew that; some token that would assure Azalea, Clover and Aderyn that she was safe. They would be so worried… But there was no time. Every moment she delayed, she risked getting caught by Jack. The sky was already beginning to lighten with a pre-dawn glow; she had to vanish before Jack awoke.

Unfortunately, the most perilous part of her escape was right here— crossing through the bedroom. The panel to the hidden passage was right by her bed; mere feet away from Jack. If he woke up and learned of the secret passages…

But there was nothing for it. The passages were her best chance at freedom. Gripping Scraps and her satchel tightly, Regina crept through the doorway. She kept her eyes trained on Jack, alert for any sign that he was waking as she tiptoed across the floor.

Holding her breath, she pressed the small catch hidden behind the tapestry. She flinched as the hinges squeaked, ducking through the door as she heard Jack stir behind her. Heart hammering, she eased the panel shut, praying with all her heart that Jack hadn't seen.

She didn't stick around to find out. As soon as the door was shut, she turned on her heel and ran. The passages were soundproof; there was no fear of anyone hearing her moving behind the walls. So she didn't bother with stealth; she ran as fast as she could, weaving her way down and down until she reached the door that opened into her private garden.

This, too, was dangerous; if the Albion spotted her they'd alert Jack, and she'd be locked back in her tower before she could say Mad Red Queen. Opening the door a crack, she peered out. Seeing no patrolling Albion or Cards, she made a mad dash for her apple orchard, the source of her salvation. Panting and massaging the stitch in her side, Regina looked up at the Trees.

"You told me… once… that you… could take me away," she gasped between pained breaths. "That you could… bring me… to safety."

 _We can, Lady_ , they whispered. _We can send you home, to a place where you will be safe. To a man who swore to protect you._

Her heart clenched as Hope danced dizzily in her veins. Oh Stars, did that mean what she thought it did?

"Please," she whispered thickly, her eyes brimming with tears as she lay a hand on a Tree trunk.

The earth at the base of the Tree gave way, revealing—

"A rabbit hole," she breathed in wonder.

How utterly perfect. Rabbit hole travel left no trace or hint; she could vanish, and no one would know where or how she'd escaped.

And she could have used this at any time… She shook off the regret. She hadn't known the truth before now, and in any case, she didn't have time for regret. Taking herself firmly in hand, she held Scraps close and jumped down the rabbit hole.


	7. Orphaned Conversations

"Mmm," Regina sighed. "Mama wasn't happy when she heard about the betrothal. She threatened to kill the Spirit of Underland, again."

Azalea laughed softly. "Your Mama is inordinately fond of that threat. You'd think it would've worn through by now."  
"Da probably keeps repairing the weave for her," Regina said whimsically.

* * *

"I had to see you," Regina whimpered, sliding her arms around him and curling into his chest like a kitten. "I had to be sure you were alright, so I could kill you with a clear conscience."  
Dafydd laughed softly, brushing her hair back. "So it's off with my head now?"

* * *

It had been a beautiful wedding.

At least, Regina assumed it had been. Unlike Aboveground ceremonies, no one save the bride, groom, and the Keeper witnessed a couple's wedding vows. Typically, guests were invited to a party at the ancestral home of the groom's family to celebrate the wedding, but no one saw the wedding take place.

Regina couldn't say she disliked the way Underland did weddings [though she maintained the Hightopps did it better]. Given her current emotional state, she would have spent the entire ceremony fidgeting and shifting in a most undignified manner. At least in a party atmosphere she could expel her energy in dancing.

"Ioan! Come take me for a spin!" Regina called.  
"Is that my Queen commanding me?" Ioan asked, grinning.  
"Not Queen. Something far more dangerous," Regina replied. "Your cousin."  
"By the Butterfly, we are cousins now, aren't we?" Ioan exclaimed. "Worse yet, we're doubly cousins. Which means I really can't refuse you."

* * *

At that, Regina's sobs somehow became worse. "But I haven't _got_ my Champion," she wailed. "He's so angry with me, because I married Jack and not him, but I had to! I can't leave the Heart, it _needs_ me. But I need _him_ , and I can never have him!"  
"Now what addled borogrove told you that Dafydd was mad at you?" Tarrant clucked, laying his head on Regina's. "Silly thing, you're the sun in his sky! He couldn't be angry with you."  
"I don't need anyone to tell me," she sniffed. "I know it. The Trees haven't sung to me at all lately. They used to whisper to me all the time, sending me his thoughts. Now there's nothing."  
"That doesn't mean he's angry with you, sweetling," Tarrant soothed her. "He hasn't been in contact with anyone lately. Perhaps he's planning something, and he wants to surprise us all."  
"But it's not my unbirthday yet," Regina sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut. "And Jack said…"

* * *

The Doorknobs and Latches and Hooks said nothing, stunned and infuriated by the mutilation and silencing inflicted upon their leader. Latchhook— the Master Latch— had been the Guardian of that particular Door since The Beginning. Long before there had ever been a ruler of Crims, the Master Latch had guarded that Doorway. That this new so-called King should desecrate the Master thus… blasphemy! If he thought they would remain silent and allow the silencing of their leader, he was sorely mistaken. The Once and Future Queen would hear of this outrage, oh yes… The Doorknobs would do anything in their power to help the Butterfly Queen reclaim her power from this murdering, blaspheming Fake King.

* * *

As Clover uncovered the dishes, Tessa lifted herself onto her hind legs, resting her front paws as she snuffled at each plate.

"I don't smell any medicines," she reported finally, looking up at Regina, her soft ears flopping comically. "But that bacon smells _wonderful_!"

Regina giggled and placed the platter of bacon on the ground, rubbing Tessa's ears before the Puppy fell to devouring the savory treat.

* * *

"You're quite lenient with mercenaries, you know that?" Dafydd asked, looking up at her.  
Regina grinned conspiriatorially, leaning towards him. "I find mercenaries bring me luck."

One corner of his mouth rose in a grin as he leaned in. She happily obliged him, meeting him halfway and blithely ignoring the departing Albions.

* * *

The men saluted him before snapping to their respective tasks. Nodding in satisfaction, Dafydd slipped through the wall into the secret passageway, beginning the trek up to Regina's—soon to once again be their— quarters.

"That was well done."

He didn't shriek. He was a battle-seasoned general, Champion, and [Fates preserve him] King, and he did not shriek and jump like a startled girl. But he may have exclaimed. A little.

The wizened little voice by his ear cackled. He twisted his head, his eyes crossing as he attempted to glare at Zhithene. From her snickers, she was entirely unaffected.

Dafydd rolled his eyes. "Did you have an actual purpose in coming, or are you just here to mock me?"  
"Mostly to mock," Zhithene said blithely. "Though also to congratulate you and your pili pala on a game well played. You'll make a fine King, my boy."  
Dafydd's lips quirked in a mirthless smile. "Jack's King as long as he lives."  
"Aye," Zhithene agreed complacently, an amused smile quirking her lips.

Dafydd quirked an eyebrow before deciding he probably didn't want to know what was brewing.

* * *

She tried very hard to look calm and confident as the double doors swung open, but inside Regina was petrified.

"Her Royal Majesty, Regina, Queen of Hearts!"

But she hadn't been the Queen of Hearts, not in a terribly long time. She had surrendered so much of her power to Jack; did she retain sufficient authority to retake the throne?

Granted, Dafydd and the Fearail had done the hard work for her in subduing Jack and his forces. But the hardest task still lay before her, though on paper it looked so easy. Would she be able to sit on the throne? Would the Heart allow Regina to rule? It had seemed overjoyed upon their reunion… But Regina had abandoned her post, run away in fear and in pain. What if the Heart decided she wasn't fit to rule? She wouldn't be able to reverse the laws Jack had enacted, and Crims would be doomed…

"You and Alice. I've never seen anyone as good at complicating matters that are really quite simple."

Regina glanced at Zhithene. The tiny Seer had supervised Regina's toilette while Dafydd withdrew to shave and cut his hair. When the Queen and her Champion had been ready to make their way downstairs, Zhithene had installed herself on Regina's shoulder— the better to see the proceedings, as she put it.

"Are we?" Regina asked, amused.  
"You are," Zhithene nodded. "Alice fretting over the Frabjous Day when it was already known she'd slay the Jabberwock! And now you, when you've already declared your Queenship, fretting over whether you can do what you've said! I vow, you Upland girls contrive to make me old before my time."  
Regina giggled. "But Zhithene, you're old already. It could be that I'm keeping you young."  
"If I was, you might be," Zhithene retorted. "but as I isn't, you ain't."  
"Such logic," Regina snickered.

But the banter had quelled her nerves, and Regina was all confidence as she climbed the dais and stood before her throne.

* * *

"Is this when you tell me that I'm not losing a daughter, I'm gaining a son?" Alice asked dryly. "Because that really didn't work out so well for anyone the last time."  
"Is that some sort of strange, backwards Uplandish wisdom?" Lamia asked, perplexed. "Because it's truly not very comforting to think that one must worry over two children instead of just one."  
"Of course it's Uplandish," Alice laughed. "They're the only ones mad enough to come up with such backwards nonsense."  
Lamia shook her head. "Such a very strange place you hail from, my dear."  
"Why do you think I left?" Alice retorted.  
"I always thought it was because the Above could never manage to create you a right-proper-Alice hat," Tarrant remarked as he returned, setting down a fresh teapot as he took his place at table.  
"Well, there was that," Alice conceded gravely, with a twinkle in her eye.

* * *

"You are both Regina's Cats, and I hope I'll have no reason to regret that."

The Kittens yelped, jumping at the interruption. They looked up, staring in awe at the stern figure of the Cheshire Cat. She floated in midair beside Madoc, the pair of them looking down at the Kittens with identical unimpressed gazes. The Kittens straightened up, sitting at stiff attention in the presence of the Queen of all Underland Cats.

"I expected better of my replacements," Cheshire said, looking down her nose at them. "But here you are bickering like a pair of puppies. No offense," she said casually, glancing at the Dog.  
"Puppies wouldn't behave this shamefully," Madoc replied, easing himself back down and laying his head on his paws.

Scraps scowled, looking down as he scuffled his paws. Buttons ducked her head meekly.

"We're sorry, Cheshire," she mewed repentantly.  
Cheshire nodded, flicking her tail lazily. "Regina's protection had to be doubled. She is so very good at getting into trouble. You must both dig her out again, you see. That's why you were both sent to my Lady."  
"Yes, Cheshire," the Kitten mewed in tandem.  
"Ask her for stories. She tells the best tales. You'll swear she can create all the characters out of thin air and make them dance," Cheshire said, her eyes unfocusing in memory. "She's been having lots of nightmares, she'll need you there. She loves playing with ribbons, but that was a given. You'll have to remind Dafydd of his place; he's quite stupid sometimes," she said, scowling.

Scraps couldn't hide a giggle at the Cheshire's abuse of Dafydd. Buttons frowned; she quite liked her Master, even if he was a dog person. And Mistress had chosen him for her mate, hadn't she? Surely Mistress knew what she was doing.

"We'll take care of Mistress, Cheshire," Scraps said eagerly.  
"See that you do. That's all I have to say to the pair of you," the Cheshire said, disappearing with a wave of her tail.

After she vanished, Scraps and Buttons stared at each other, awed. They were well aware of the honor of being visited by the Cheshire. And that was to say nothing of being given a job to do! It must be very important that they keep their Mistress safe; the Cheshire didn't appear to just any Cat, after all.

"You realize this means we'll have to work together," Buttons said, superiority in her tone.  
Scraps wrinkled his nose, but nodded sullenly. "Partners?"  
"Partners," Buttons reluctantly agreed.  
"But I'm not sharing my basket with you," Scraps warned.  
Buttons scoffed. "As if I'd _want_ to. You probably hog the pillow!"  
"I do not!"  
"How do you know? You're asleep!"  
"I… coz! I just know!"

Madoc rolled his eyes, huffed, and padded outside. So much for his nice, peaceful nap…

* * *

"Good morning," Lily said, her voice laden with innuendo as she smirked at her cousin through the Looking Glass.  
Regina blushed deeply, but didn't rise to the bait. "How are you, Lily?"  
"Not as good as you, clearly," Lily replied.  
"Gia, come back to bed."

Now Lily's jaw dropped, and she laughed. Well, well… Gigi's blush deepened and she bit her lip, but she cast Lily a Look.

"Not a word," she admonished.  
"I didn't say a thing," Lily grinned.  
"You didn't, but I will!" Ioan burst out, nearly falling from his chair as he cackled. "About time, Dafydd!"  
"Shut up, Ioan," Dafydd replied, his expression perfectly obvious even though his face wasn't in the Glass.  
"Did you call for any reason in particular, Lily?" Gigi asked, clearing her throat.  
"Why? Are you busy?" Ioan smirked.  
"Ioan!" Gigi protested weakly, dropping the mirror.

Ioan cackled again, the laugh abruptly turning into a grunt as Lily smacked him in the gut.

"Behave, you," she admonished him, before composing herself and returning to the Glass. "Yes, I did have a reason. Two reasons, actually. I had to make sure you were safe, for starters. Jack's spreading rumors that you're in Annwyn, but his Cards are searching for you."  
"Oh, brimini," Regina said petulantly.

Dafydd, Ioan, and Lily's eyebrows all rose; unlike them, it was very rare that Regina actually cursed.

"He can't find you here, Gia, you know that," Dafydd reminded her.  
"I know," she nodded. "Still."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : And that, at long, long last, is all she wrote. I have now shared every last bit of this entire series, and it can now be properly put to bed.

Thank you, dear Reader, so very much, for sticking with me through the years. Writing this story has been a deeply transformative process for me and my creative method, and I really hope reading this has been even a fraction as satisfying for you as it has been for me to write it.

I'm not entirely certain when I'll be back again. I have a number of one-shots that I'm planning to post. I'm also hard at work on the final installation of my Van Helsing series, which will be titled _The Destiny of Angels_. I'm not sure when that will be out; hopefully before 2017. But in any case, I will return someday. For now, this is _The Wonderland Chronicles_ , signing off.

xx, PerfectDisaster22


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